


More Than Meets The Eye

by lluviadinoche



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, College, Human AU, M/M, Romance, Struggling, Sweet, life - Freeform, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lluviadinoche/pseuds/lluviadinoche
Summary: Striving to find approval and meaning, Antonio throws himself into the world of art determined to come out on top. Yet, in all of his searching, burning, and pain, he never thought that a single culinary student could ever manage to tear down his walls and make him face his biggest fear; himself.[Warning: Alcohol, mental and physical ailments, sexual references]





	1. Rosso

_**~Rosso~** _

* * *

_"Of all the senses, sight must be delightful"_

_-Helen Keller_

* * *

The autumn breeze embraced him and sent familiar shivers through his body. The crisp air filled his nostrils and pinched his cheeks to a rose color. His eyes were closed and his lips curving into a bright smile that emphasized his features. He had no scarf, nor a good jacket, and was left a fish out of water compared to the girls wearing boots and the men in elegant coats with warm scarves. It earned him glances from people who didn't already know him since he took the same street and went to the same place, never once making a modification to his schedule.

It wasn't like he lived in a small town either. While the area he lived in was rather secluded and he knew all of his neighbors, the place he traveled to was not in that area. It was a very urban area where the bustling people always shoved around and moved in a hurry—never stopping like he did despite knowing his university was a good mile away now and that he had to get walking or he would be late on normal days. However, today was not a normal day. He had much more time and his only class for the day wasn't for hours. As he walked, his feet joining the tapping of many others, he decided to enjoy the day. It was autumn, it was beautiful, and the bakery was tempting him with a sweet aroma that danced through his nostrils, luring him in and seducing his stomach.

Of course, he gave in. Antonio was never a strong person when it came to fighting off the cravings of baked goods (or food in general). He walked inside of the welcoming bakery, the sweet-scented goods tempting him without a second to waste. Admittedly, his mouth watered a bit and he walked over to grab a menu. There were many reasons for why Antonio adored this place in particular. There was the soft music that soothed him and sent his mind in a calm state, there were the baked goods that always melted sweetly on his tongue and felt orgasmic in the end. There was also the fact that it was a good place to go to when he had other assignments to do and needed to accomplish them. However, the main reason Antonio always came to the particular bakery was because it was the only one that carried menus in braille.

Antonio had been a normal child up until age six when he had taken a horrible blow to the head in a car accident and was left blind. It usually didn't bother him, he was fine with it. After all, there were so few memories of when he could see that it didn't matter. At least, that is what he told himself over and over in the steaming shower as scratches littered his olive arms. However, he would never forget colors. He loved them all, mostly red. Vibrant colors that sang and shouted off of mountain tops, Antonio adored them

He ordered a few of things which included a cupcake, an eclair, and an espresso. The cashier who saw Antonio a lot these days took note of a few things such as his lack of a prominent white cane or sunglasses. He was stubborn that way, refusing to back down and use things such as those unless his very life depended on it.

Finishing his treat up, Antonio reached his hand along to graze the outside of his watch where the nub poked out to tell him the time. Sadly, his small break and period of enjoyment were cut short with the realization that he had a class to go to and then a job to attend to. Often times, Antonio desired to be a child again simply to avoid responsibilities and enjoy everything. Of course, that was not the case and he had adult tasks to attend to.

Standing up, he moved smoothly to get out with his leftover cupcake that he wanted to save as a snack for later. The crowd had died down a bit, which made sense. That was good. It meant that he could push the white cane back and almost live as if he did not need it. However, not even a few steps outside of the peaceful place he had accepted as a second home and he was on the ground.

Antonio winced for he has scraped his hands and got nervous when he felt his cupcake squished beneath his palm and his white cane nowhere on his pants. Yet, that didn't distract him from the scent that he was picking up from another person who must have tumbled down to the cold ground with him. His mouth opened but closed just as quickly. He had no idea what to say and this was an embarrassing situation for him.

It wasn't pleasant like daisies but it was not unpleasant. It was pizza, cheap pizza. The smell of grease was strong but there was also something else that was a little less present. It was something sweet, something with great spice and silky sweetness. He tilted his head up towards the where the second smell was more present.

"Some manners you have. Are you just going to sit there like an idiot, or are you going to stand up and apologize for smacking into me?"

Antonio's heart froze for a moment. He wasn't sure if he had gotten himself into a bit of trouble and it concerned him. The voice, though an octave or two higher than his own, remained intimidating and rather frightening with the manner that he was spoken to in.

"Are you mute? Come on, stand up, here, have your things," the voice seemed to be losing patience. Irritation but also curious as to why this man refused to stand up. The new man, who failed to notice everyone staring at him held the cane out to Antonio who seemed to only look at him dazed. The stranger puffed his cheeks and rolled his eyes. Was this guy stupid? Why wouldn't he take the stupid cane? Why did he even need a cane, did he have back problems? Judging by the lack of standing up, most likely. Lovino did not glance down to the type of cane that it was or he might have noticed the reason that Antonio needed it.

Antonio cleared his throat and tilted his head down, his hair brushing against the bridge of his nose lightly while he gave a forced laugh, "I'm not mute, but if you don't mind, could you possibly place my white cane in my hands so I do not have to embarrass either of us as I search for your hands?"

Blinking a couple of times, he cocked his eyebrow and then he noticed it. Those green eyes that seemed full of life could not see and it surprised him at first. He had never bumped into a blind person—or at least not like this—and now the stares he was getting were starting to make sense. His face went scarlet as he helped Antonio up and placed his things in his hands.

"C-Crap. I didn't realize you were...blind," he muttered bitterly but meekly as he pulled Antonio up; or at least tried to.

"Ah, it's alright. You didn't know, after all, I don't look very blind. It was an accident. Thank you for helping me up however. I'm sorry for running into you."

He shook his head, "It's - whatever. Uhm -you have cupcake all over your hand?"

Antonio shrugged and dusted himself off, "I'll be fine. I'm a bit sad that I have no cupcake, but it was all an accident."

Lovino blinked in confusion for a moment before shaking his head, "Whatever. I have to get going. Bye uhm..."

"Antonio," his voice was rather smooth and relaxed despite Lovino expecting a hint of irritation from him.

"Goodbye Antonio," he nodded and turned to leave.

Antonio lifted his other hand up wanting to ask what the stranger's name was even though he knew that the stranger was already leaving. Slowly pulling his hand back, he turned to the way that he knew took him to the campus.

Antonio opened and closed his fist for a moment as he began to walk and then proceeded to regret his choice to not ask for a napkin or something of the sort from the stranger because cherry filling and chocolate frosting were not a lovely mix.

He sighed, brushing it off and pulled his white cane out grudgingly. Perhaps—he would need to use it for a bit so that he could avoid situations similar to the one that had occurred. Random strangers getting embarrassed was not his idea of a pleasant afternoon. Although, that was him.

Removing his thoughts from the incident, he thought about the project he needed to finish for his sculpting class and departed into the small crowd of people, not paying any mind to anyone else or the fact that he still technically has a smooshed cupcake smeared on his hand.


	2. Verde

**_~Verde~_ **

_Sight is seeing with the eyes, vision is seeing with the mind_

_-Orrin Woodward_

* * *

_Author's Notice: The death of a loved one can cause many things such as vomiting, loss of appetite, and a constant feeling of hopelessness. Especially when the loved one is someone that you were not expecting to die. Often, these symptoms may last from anywhere to a few weeks to a few years. It generally depends on the person. However, we must all remember that others care about us and to keep the emotions of the tragedy bottled up is unhealthy. Always try to share memories you shared with the person. Write about your life with that person, do anything that helps you remember them because I promise you it will help. If you don't want to share with somebody you know or with the entire web, feel free to talk to me, I'll listen. I understand the feeling of utter hopelessness. The air seems to get sucked out of you as you come to the slow realization that they are gone. Tears pour and you can't stop them, everything is on fire, there's constant pain. You get angry, you get sad, emotions fly everywhere. Sometimes you blame God, sometimes you blame them or even yourself. That is okay, it happens to even the strongest. Always feel free to talk to me, I'll listen. You shouldn't have to be alone. Death hurts and it hurts worse when you can't talk to anyone._

* * *

Lovino bit his lip, rolling over and staring at the bin in the corner. His stomach growled, demanding food after he had tossed all of his into the porcelain bowl that seemed to taunt him more and more often these days. The fact that this was becoming a reoccurring issue greatly concerned him. The last thing that he wanted was to be left in the depressing state that he was currently in where he could hardly eat without feeling his stomach twist and turn in discomfort.  
He pulled at his hair and in irritation, disgruntled and exhausted. His eyes lazily wandered along the crème colored walls, tracing the contours of everything as they moved slowly. Then, they stopped and Lovino's heart cracked and squeezed in his chest. A tear slowly trickled down his reddened cheek as his hazel eyes glanced at the picture where a certain man with eyes bluer than the skies smiled as he kissed his cheek while his eyes widened and his eyebrows slanted down in irritation. Though, the slight grin on his face gave away that he was not as irritated.  
In fact, it was the opposite. Lovino was quite content and despite not expecting the action, the memory itself embedded itself into the corners on his mind. It was a blissful evening when he thought of it.

The way he was held and how he had leaned against him. He thought of the way that he smiled ever so slightly as those eyes gazed at him with a light and admiration that he struggled to adjust to. He thought of the way that their lips connected as the song played and the way he gently swayed to the music that played peacefully in the background.

Yet, the more he thought of such a good evening, the more his heart cracked and lungs crushed. His breath left him and suddenly, Lovino was once again the small figure of a man that he had been the evening that his sky of reds and oranges that glittered with passion received the touch of the Angel of Death who tainted his beautiful skies black and blue.  
Lovino rolled over once more, not wanting to look at the wall anymore in fear of what it would do to him. Yet, it was too late and Lovino quickly stood up. Fast steps and a slammed bathroom door as his throat burned for the second time that day.

Days like this, Lovino wondered what he was doing and he also wondered if Alfred was weeping down on him from heaven as he watched.

* * *

Antonio listened to the soft crunching of the leaves beneath his feet and he sighed a small, exhausted sigh. A recent painting was clutched in his hands, the frame tapping the ground and scraping with an awful scratching noise. What did it matter? Another day, more paintings rejected when he used them in hopes of getting someone beyond the borders of the places he had known all of his life.

The problem was that people didn't go through with their promises often times. He would have someone commission his work only to have the person, time after time, reject the piece when he finished it for the most ridiculous of reasons. Either it took too long, it wasn't what they had imagined, or they found someone else and had not told him. Time after time it frustrated Antonio, leaving his hopes dragging behind him. Obviously, he took longer with his work, but it infuriated him when things like this happened. Even if it was only something that occurred 2/5 times, it was enough that it took money out of his pocket that he could not earn back.

It frustrated him, left his mind spinning and screaming while his motivation died down and the voice that once loudly slammed against his skull demanding for a greater something began to fade and tap instead.

He was the definition of starving artist. Dear God. If it hadn't been for the fact his family owned the house he lived in, Antonio would have been starving in an apartment in the center of a much too complicated city that would surely end up killing him in the end.

He missed his mother and oh, how he wished he could see his brother more than the short visits once a year that never lasted and was overall disappointing because the two knew absolutely nothing about the other anymore. João was somewhere else working on his novels and not as close with Antonio as he used to be.

The fact was, he could possibly try and visit João in Portugal if it weren't for the fact that he seemed to get the short end of the stick when it came to the people who commissioned him.

As he kept dragging his painting along, his stomach growled and he sighed in defeat. He checked his pocket; he had enough for something on the way. Pulling out his phone, Antonio drew one finger lazily over the screen and put an earbud in.

"Nearby fast food."

His phone read the results to him and Antonio decided to stop by a cheap pizza place and order one of those pizzas for one. He gave his answer and his phone began to pull up directions for him. Modern technology was a blessing, he would admit that. He couldn't imagine not being able to use his device for things. How many buses would he miss? How little would he know about the world?

God only knew.

Pulling out his white cane hesitantly, he began to walk to where his phone directed him. Another good thing about having a device that told him things when he needed was that he got a bit more freedom and was able to think about other things.

For example, the fact that he was frustrated.

This painting had been a good one too. Two people embracing in a canvas of dark blues. From the good feeling of the textures to how long he had worked on it—it all made him feel good despite his inability to actually see what he had created.

It was quite the blow to his pride when he found the person had not liked it and refused to pay for it. Antonio had not gotten the chance to open his mouth and argue on how it wasted his time and money, but the door shut on him and he couldn't do anything then without it seeming extreme.

The directions his phone gave him registered and he followed them. It wasn't a place that was very far actually. If it was any good, perhaps he would consider coming around to the place every once in a while when he was out of class.

Leaves crunched beneath his feet, becoming music to him. Everything seemed all the more relaxing and Antonio adored it. It was quite wonderful and the walk through the cool air relaxed his thoughts from the fiery flames that licked outward which he had been consumed in before.

But still, he didn't enjoy having to use his white cane more than he normally did in a day. It was quite uncomfortable for him.

"You have arrived at your destination," his phone chimed, bringing Antonio back to reality and all that it possessed.

The smell was familiar and it startled him for a fleeting second. He had never been to this particular part of town, so he wasn't sure why this smell seemed oddly familiar. Pushing the door open, Antonio walked inside and sighed as his heart began to race.

Chances were, this place had no braille menus. This meant that another flustering episode of "could you repeat the menu for the seventh time" was up and Antonio was not looking forward to it.

"Welcome—what the hell are you doing here?"

_"Lovino! Be nice to the customers!"_

Antonio's eyebrows furrowed and his face filled with confusion before he realized that not only was the smell familiar, but the voice as well.

He laughed brightly as he walked inside a bit more, "Stranger from the other day?"

"No, it's Barney," he responded snappily.

He ran his hands along the railing before tapping his white cane along the tile floor, his mind attempting to memorize the place so that he would not have to use his cane again, "What a coincidence to bump into you again. I just came to get some pizza."

"Really now! I thought you were here to sell me Girl Scout Cookies," he teased before rolling his eyes at his manager who was yelling at him to quit chit chatting and to actually work.

Antonio shook his head and snapped his fingers, "Sadly, I forgot all of my Girl Scout Cookies at home," he gave a cheesy grin before standing up straight, "Anyway, could you please tell me what's on the menu? I'm a bit hungry."

With a small, nonchalant nod, Lovino glanced up at their menu and read everything off in a monotone voice, "Alright, well, there's pepperoni, cheese—all that cardboard crap, you know?"

_"Lovino!"_

Lovino did not seem at all concerned and kept lazily reading things off and giving the prices with them. It took him a bit, but he read down all of the menu—and he read it again when Antonio asked. He didn't complain. That would be a dick move considering the situation the man was in.

It took a few repeats on certain things and questions on others before Antonio finally ordered a small Hawaiin Pizza (with a bit of screeching on Lovino's side). He found it amusing. He didn't understand the grand debate over pineapple on pizza, but he found it hilarious when people argued over it. He found it hilarious that this guy was working in a cheap pizza place and was screeching over pineapple on pizza.

Antonio stood where he was after he paid for his "meal". He cleared his throat, "Lovino's your name, right? At least, that's what I heard your manager over there screaming."

"Mhm. I think you called out something like Antonio to me when I left?"

"Yup! That's my name. Also, I'm really sorry about the other—"

Lovino scoffed, "If you apologize one more time, I'm hitting you over the head. Don't get your panties in a twist, nerd. It was an accident and for the record,  _I_ made you squish a perfectly good cupcake."

He gave a nervous laugh as he rubbed his shoulder, "I'm sorry—" He didn't manage to finish what he started to say before something small whacked him in the face, followed by unapologetic laughter.

"I told you not to apologize again, dummy," Lovino got up once the bell rang from the oven. He walked over, watching Antonio rub his face and attempt to figure out what had hit him in the face for a moment. He pulled the pizza it, putting it in a small box and scrunching his nose up as he walked back, exiting the register so that he could place it directly in Antonio's hands, "Here's your cardboard cancer with another reason I have lost faith in the United States tossed on top."

Antonio smiled when the pizza was placed in his hands and as he caught a whiff of the small treat, "Thank you, even if you died a bit on the inside while making this."

Lovino snorted, "A little?"

Antonio chuckled, finding Lovino's attitude rather interesting. His constant use of childish insults and words that fell out without hesitation made Antonio laugh and fill with a bit of joy, which was a really good thing for him considering the frustration of finishing up his last year of school as well as the constant terror of managing to provide himself food.

Taking a bite of the pizza, he slid his painting to the side and that was when Lovino captured a glance of it.

"Jesus," he muttered as he saw the painting for the first time, wondering how he had not seen the bulky thing, "Did you paint that?"

Antonio turned his head, putting his pizza down, confused for a moment before realizing what Lovino was referring to, "Oh! Yes! I'm a painter and visual arts student. I was delivering a commission today since I finished work and classes, but the person didn't like it, so no money for Toni today."

Lovino's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and irritation. He didn't comprehend the ability for anyone to look at a piece such as the one he was currently gawking at and not want to spend hundreds on it. It was gorgeous. Lovino was no artist, but he knew a masterpiece when he saw it.

This painting was monochrome blue, filled with wonderful swirls and shaded beautifully. It was quite texturized as well, making it come to life and seem to dance out to him. How had someone rejected the painting? He suddenly began to contemplate over things and wondered who the blind truly were when it came to things such as this.

He shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide, "What a dick. Must be compensating for something."

Antonio smiled, chortles bubbling their way up but clashing with the violent choking of his bite of pizza. He was so used to Gilbert being the one who spoke that way and it charmed him greatly. Even then, Lovino's humor and vulgarity contrasted greatly with that of Gilbert.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?"


	3. Arancione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been quite a bit since I updated.

**_~Arancione~_ **

* * *

_Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe._

_-Gail Devers_

* * *

Within a week, Antonio had discovered a few things about Lovino and Lovino discovered many things about him. For one, Antonio discovered that Lovino had the habit of using insults as a way of establishing friendship. So, he often got called things like "dork, nerd, dummy, idiot, weirdo" and many others. He thought it somewhat adorable.

He also discovered that Lovino did not appreciate the collection of meme-based T-shirts that Gilbert had bought him. He called Antonio a meme-slut after finding him wearing a shirt with the mocking Spongebob meme. He now knew that Lovino really liked hazelnut and chocolate, which explained why he always smelled of chocolate and spice. He knew that Lovino was a culinary student from out of town. He discovered that Lovino would snort a bit and clear his throat when he found something amusing. There were many other things, but most of all, Antonio came to find that he was quite entranced by Lovino in the strangest way.

It was not romantic since he knew that something like that was different. However, this was more of something that absorbed him and caused him to fill with joy and amusement. He was entranced platonically.

Antonio wasn't one to make friends easily, and it often caused him to feel quite lonely. It wasn't that he didn't want to make friends. It was more that he didn't want pity. That was the one thing that he could not stand. As much as he loved talking and laughing with people, the thought of someone abusing his devotion—it was something that he could not stand. Thus, he tended to avoid friendships in general if they didn't include Francis and Gilbert.

But because there was something about Lovino, be it the way he spoke or the fact he had the tendency to call him "Turtle Dork" after discovering Antonio had an unhealthy obsession with them, Antonio liked Lovino and felt that this could possibly become another friendship that he could treasure and hold close to his heart.

Like this moment for example, where Antonio and Lovino sat at the bakery where they had their pleasant "meeting". Antonio was sipping at a nice cappuccino and Lovino cornetto. Both of them having another normal chat where Lovino talked about how much pride he took in his cooking and how it would best any Antonio's cheap frozen chicken nugget meals any day. Antonio talked about his most recent project which he had little motivation to complete. Both of them enjoying the morning before they had to head off to class.

"I'm thinking about completing my project in the park today. The weather app says it's going to be a nice day," Antonio commented as he took another small sip, his fingers typing away on his heavy typewriter. The keys clacked a pleasing sound to him, but a rather strange one to Lovino who was still learning many things.

For one, Antonio typed with this typewriter constantly since it wrote in braille and made his life all the easier. He also found that Antonio had strangely bright eyes. They haunted him at times. He had always assumed that the blind all had the same faded eyes, but Antonio's still seemed a vibrant green that scared Lovino since the man refused to wear sunglasses most days and often convinced him that Antonio could actually see.

"Mm, well, show me when you're done, nerd. I haven't seen anything new from you since that painting at the pizza place," Lovino clicked his tongue and glanced out the window. The day was nice. However, it was a bit chilly. Glancing back to Antonio, he looked him up and down. He wore a faded tan long sleeve shirt with a faded image of a slice of pie on the top left part of it. His pants were some crumpled up jeans that looked like they had fallen out of the mouth of a cow. His hair was messy, as usual. Flecks of paint that he hadn't managed to get out which amused Lovino sometimes, but also irritated him because of how often people believed Antonio was dirty.

Antonio hummed softly, "We'll see. You still owe me dinner for that bet last week."

Lovino rolled his eyes, "I didn't dare you to eat a whole pizza, moron, don't start. You had no reason for that idiotic move"

He laughed lightly and continued to type away, both of them sitting there in silence, quiet sips and the sweet welcoming embrace of hazelnut that Antonio adored more than anything.

There was a whimsical feeling about it. Normally they bumped into each other when Antonio went to grab pizza or asked Lovino to join him for breakfast. Even then, it had only been but a few chats and just getting to know the each other well enough.

"Everyone has a reason for things. Like you with cooking or me with painting. I had my reasons for eating an entire pizza even though it made me very sick."

Folding his arms and leaning back in his seat, "Mm, really now? Okay, loser, why do you paint?"

Antonio fell silent, his lips not exactly pursed, but closed and his posture straighter. There was a smile on his face, but the corners of it were pulled a bit too much and it was left plastic, "I guess you could say to rebel?"  
Lovino's head tilted and his mouth opened ever so slightly as if to speak, but the words were robbed from him, "So, you paint to prove that you can do something?" His words were drawn out slowly and each laced in confusion.  
Antonio pursed his lips for a moment and tilted his head back as he slipped into thought, "At first, that is exactly why I pursued art. I was six—and no six-year-old wants to be blind. I guess I decided that I wanted to be some special snowflake and be the best artist alive."  
"Seems fair. You wanted to prove you could do crap for yourself," his shoulders shrugged lightly as he listened. Antonio's last phrase had ended on a melancholy note, which seemed an odd place to stop something.  
"Yeah! And then, I actually started to like it. At first, I liked the praise I got for being able to push past expectation. Then, I realized that it was a bit dumb and that I truly adored art. Most of all, I enjoyed painting. It was something that was different because with a pencil, I never got to understand my final project; I only knew that it was there. But, when I was painting, I could make the paint come alive and I could make it poke and swirl and-and I could feel it when it dried. For someone who survives off of description, being able to get an image of what my finished project was, it became the best thing for me. So I pursued it more and more. I found that I really liked art, not for the praise of being different, because I don't want to be, but because it made me feel like I could enjoy something the same way that anyone else could appreciate it," he mused, a bright smile on his face, and his eyes filling with light, "Have you ever felt that? Feeling like you love something so much that you're willing to cling onto it for the rest of your life even if everyone else around you doesn't quite understand why?"  
And Lovino nodded; for he did understand. Perhaps it wasn't painting—or in any of the fine arts—but it was in cooking. Living in a family of greatly accomplished people in things such as painting and sculpting, being able to find joy in something and knowing that it was a passion to take to the top gave him hope for the future and hope in himself. College was a terrifying thing and being able to dream towards an actual future gave him comfort.

"Yeah, turtle dork, I know how you feel."

Everything was silent, there wasn't much noise other than the slow shuffles of the people that were pacing along the floors, cleaning up, and the soft whispers that other people gave as they spoke calmly, enjoying the morning. There were a few weary college students who were still finishing up random papers, tired eyes that gazed wearily at bright screens and remaining unaware of the contrast they held between themselves and the beige walls that were painted with lilies and carnations. There was the normal city folk coming in for a moment into a paradise for a treat and sip of life before opening the door and heading off into the busy world once more without a concern.

But Antonio and Lovino, they sat, not really doing anything, and talking about anything and everything in the blissful warmth of the shop. Olive fingertips grazed the velvety fabric of the seat and hazel eyes looked around before glancing at the clock and standing up. With a gentle nudge, Lovino brought Antonio back to their own world and responsibilities that waited just outside of the bakery.

Another meeting, another talk, and despite everything that they knew, Antonio and Lovino still felt like strangers.

* * *

His toes curled in the grass, body leaning forward, and tongue poking out of wine-stained lips in concentration as he moved his brush carefully. His paint splotched white shirt drooped loosely at one shoulder, revealing a rather muscular arm from beneath. Antonio tugged it up lazily, getting more paint on the shirt as he did. No second thought was given and he let the shirt fall lazily once again.

It gave him a delicate appearance, one that was quite interesting as it contrasted with his physical appearance and made him look like a gentle giant.

His skin was also littered in goosebumps as it was rather chilly out and his jacket was somewhere on the ground, neglected for the time being. It was too much of a hassle to struggle with it while painting, so suffering from the cold seemed a much more logical solution.

After a few more strokes, a wine bottle met his lips and the fruity liquid going down his throat. It was a reward for him. After all, it was the first time in a while he was rather focused and serene rather than vexed. It tingled, the sweetness kissing his taste buds before rolling down his throat.

He had invited Lovino to come join him if he wasn't doing anything after class, but the response he had gotten was a maybe, so he assumed he had been rejected due to complications in scheduling—which was completely understandable. He filled with disappointment, to say the least. Having Lovino around to talk to seemed rather relaxing and overall a refreshing thing.

He normally didn't work around other people for various reasons, but he had wanted someone to talk to, strangely enough. Why the sudden change of preference, Antonio did not know.

Preference wasn't the right word. It was more of a comfort issue.

Taking another large sip of wine, Antonio put the large bottle down next to him and hummed softly as he continued to swipe gentle strokes. The world around him seemed quieter.

Instead of the busy noises of the streets and the collected voices of people who ran everywhere in hectic storms, Antonio was in paradise. The music from his phone played softly adding to the fall aesthetic that swirled around him. Every color that he would never see again, every tree he could never comprehend the same, and every object that stood in front of him all seemed to fade away and all that existed was his art.

Then a soft tingling grasped his senses. Chocolate and spice. He snapped from his peaceful state of focus and reached his free hand out gently. It moved through the air aimlessly before touching a soft fabric that left his fingertips just quickly as he had brushed to it. Bringing his hand back to his lap, he smiled faintly, "How's my favorite cook?"

"What if I had been some random stranger, hmm?"

Antonio's titter filled the air around them, "Not many random strangers smell like chocolate and spice when they come up to me—or at least not that boldly."

Lovino stepped back from Antonio's hand and watched him with a look of amusement, "Whatever. So, what's the nerd working on now?" He leaned on the seat Antonio sat on with folded arms, looking at the canvas.

It was confusing at first, each color contrasting greatly, but it was aesthetically pleasing regardless. Blues and oranges, purples and yellows—each spread throughout the canvas and bursting to life as they contrasted with the bleakness and the austerity that the weather itself cried out with.

Antonio did not pull his paintbrush from the canvas and kept working to get the textures correctly. His focus was on nothing else at the moment. Although, he was still listening to Lovino, "Just an exercise since I need to think about what to do for my project. I am dying and avoiding it way too much. Too bad I still don't want to do it. So now, I paint out here."

"Without shoes? You look like a stinky hobo," he snickered.

"You're too kind to me, Lovino."

Lovino shrugged, sitting down on the grass and pulling out a book to read while Antonio painted next to him.

The music continued to play softly, Spanish that Lovino could only partially decipher from his limited knowledge of it. It was beautiful regardless, the sweet strums of a guitar and the honey voice that sang, giving the entire thought of autumn a more satisfactory and blissful appeal.

His attempts to translate the song were all in vain and ended in mystification. He settled to listening to the lyrics instead and pretending that he knew what was going on.

Tawny eyes grazed along the green grass, fallen leaves, small dots of paint that littered the ground, and then landing upon the large bottle of wine that sat comfortably in the grass.

A sick feeling filled his stomach for the briefest moment and Lovino felt his lungs close shut. It was only a moment, but it still happened, and it took him a moment to gather himself again, ignoring the bottle entirely.

Antonio didn't notice, how could he? He kept painting, humming softly to the music as he did. Lovino read, glimpsing up at him every few moments to see his progress before going back to reading and laying on the grass. Antonio would sing actual words every few moments. Lovino listened, translating what he could and feeling relaxed.

Antonio talked to Lovino when he wasn't humming. He asked him about school and Lovino did the same to him. When Antonio mentioned it was his last year of school, Lovino choked on his breath, shocked to find that Antonio was twenty-six.

"What the hell? I'm barely twenty!"

Antonio laughed, shrugging, leaving a very confused Lovino to sit there excogitating over the fact that he was a year away from being legally allowed to drink and Antonio was four years away from being in thirty-years-old. It was strange to think about. Especially considering the way Antonio acted and dressed. His mannerisms convinced the Italian that he could not have been any older than twenty-three.

After a couple of comments on how Antonio was an old man, the both of them sat on the grass, eating cheap park food and waiting for Antonio's painting to dry enough for them to leave. Well, for Antonio to leave. Lovino technically could leave whenever he wanted, but he was being nice for Antonio's sake.

So they sat, Antonio, finishing up homework for other classes and Lovino talking about how he looked, taking advantage of the fact that Antonio had no idea of what he was like.

"Large man, spiky green hair, piercings on my nose and lip, and I wear red contact lenses."

"Really?"

" _Really_. Also, I sound like a dying walrus when I sing."

"I'm sure you don't."

Their conversations carried on, meaningless things thrown into the crisp autumn air and Antonio sitting there feeling more at peace than he had felt in a long time. It was nice to be able to talk to someone again. It took his mind off of a lot of things.

It was a new thing for Antonio to get used to. While he knew the names of some of the people in his classes and everyone in his neighborhood, his friends were limited to Gilbert and Francis. But now, there was someone else joining in the friendship circle.

"Hey, you asked me why I painted the other day, but I never asked why you cooked," Antonio finally broke the silence.

Lovino initiated it again. He bit his lip and thought about his inspirations and what had brought him to this point, "Well, I used to cook a lot as a kid. My grandpa worked a lot, so I would have to make something for Feli and I. At first, it was a dumb chore. Then, I realized that I really liked it because one, I got to eat what I wanted and what kid doesn't like that?—and two, I got to explore a lot with things and it became my own form of creation. My creation was delicious too, so bonus. Suck on that you Vanhoe," he stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry at Antonio.

Antonio stuck his tongue out, mirth plastered on his olive face. He was quite enjoying himself really. Talking to Lovino gave him more motivation to paint. That was something that he hadn't experienced in a while. It was amicable, really.

"My grandfather teased me a bit when I was younger about it, but he grew more and more proud as I grew older. Although, he still thinks that I need to be warmer to people," he chuckled lightly, "What did your family think of your painting?"

Antonio clamped his mouth shut for a moment as a sigh escaped him, "My mama loved my painting and my brother thought it cool, at least. But my father, he never liked it. He thought it a bit dumb and said I was putting myself up for disappointment. I never listened to him about it because, in my heart, I knew it didn't matter if I couldn't see. I don't think he ever quite accepted that " he shrugged lightly.

A small cloud of sorrow seemed to hang over them, or Antonio at least. It was there, barely hanging over before it disappeared, leaving nothing but a momentary thought of it. If not gone, it was no longer noticeable. That was at least decent.

He sat up for a moment, slipping his socks and shoes back on, the warmth becoming a strange sensation to his cold feet that had gone a bit numb from the amount of time that he had entangled them in the cool mess of the damp grass that currently soaked the backs of both of their clothes.

Swaying gently, he began to hum again to the soft crackling recording of an old song. He turned towards Lovino and let his head fall gently to his shoulder, "What does the day look like?"

His voice gently brushed Lovino's ear like a nymph that pressed a gentle kiss to him in sorrow. It startled Lovino in the strangest way, causing him to look over as Antonio's vibrant eyes seemed to stare into the deepest parts of the universe, seeing beyond what others could only imagine. It sent lighting swift shivers through him before a feeling of slight sorrow filled him.

"It's a nice day. There are leaves on the ground—orange and yellow. The sky is grey, but there is some blue that is peeking through," he started, not seeing any harm in describing the day, "There are people walking by wrapped up. The trees are almost bare from the fact the leaves have fallen. It's just a dreary mix of browns, oranges, greys, and reds. But, they work, nicely, you know? It's calm and sweet, and neutral."

A soft sigh went past his lips and Antonio lay back in the grass, imagining what Lovino described as leaves and grass caught in his shaggy brown curls. It had been so long since he had seen the autumn weather and the world in general, "It sounds wonderful."

Silence took over once again, an awkward feeling settling in with both as it reintroduced itself into the scenario. It only added to the neutral feeling of autumn. They were made of browns and greys; hues that circled them and attempted to enter their minds only to get rejected because despite the boring and repetitive neutrality of their conversations—the fact was that it was nice and that they both found great joy in the plainness that filled the autumn environment.

Not everything needed bright colors. In fact, neutral was nice. In all of the drabness, it was much easier to find joy.

And that was how Antonio's slow hums as they sat in the grass, bored, but not moving, turned into words that rang softly only for their ears. The small voice singing through the speaker was drowned by Antonio's sweet voice that sang boldly despite being quiet. The boldness itself did not come from Antonio, but the way that something so flattering and elegant could be in the same place as neutrality.

Eventually, the two did part their ways, Antonio leaving to go get cleaned up so he could leave to work, and Lovino headed off to go buy some things at the store. The sun was setting by then, bright blues fading to oranges, reds, and the slow fingertips of purple that reached to any remaining light as if clinging to it and wanting the fugacious light to linger for an ephemeral moment more. The neutrality was pierced by coolness such as that of the shivering brushes of blues that dominated the once grey-blue sky above.

To Antonio, nothing had changed.

* * *

_"How much do you love me?"_

_"A lot."_

_"Then please, let me help you and tell me why these cuts are on your cheek…"_

_"I'm not the one who needs help."_

* * *

He had been sitting there for hours on end, his fingers running over the familiar cover of Les Miserables and the Frank Sinatra record replaying for the seventh time in the background.

He had never felt this unwilling to do an art project for any class. Yes, he had his dreading moments where he would much rather cook, clean, or attempt to do many other things than to work on his sculpture. It was a rotten feeling that caused his insides to curl and quiver in denial and disquietude.

Antonio rolled over, wanting nothing more than to fling himself into a hole or perhaps the sun. He had not even been able to work on his sketch paper, tearing up the paper over and over, unsatisfied and unsure of what he was doing.

**_"Paint a story using something that inspires you"_ **

He pulled at his hair, hoping for a fleeting memory of his mother's face or maybe Gilbert and Francis. Yet, nothing came up and what did come up did not hold a feeling that dear to him. Image after image using his limited memories and abilities to tell what faces looked like but still nothing came to him.

He gave up after a while, only laying on his couch before work, wondering how on Earth he was ever going to find the motivation to do this project when he could barely manage to get up at the moment. It was awful at the moment as he had little motivation.

Not knowing what else to do, he slammed his face into a pillow. It was a soft, relaxing him a bit when he hit the lace fabric. His couch was very soft in general. He limply lifted his hand to run his fingers along the velvety couch in attempts to possibly at least come up with ideas for what he would do for this project.

He wanted to paint his mother, more than anything. Yet, try as he might, Antonio couldn't see her face as clearly as he had seen it years before. There were blurry images of who she was and despite the number of times that he had touched her face in admiration and love, it was not the same. The images seemed to flutter away and all that was left was a cracking and fading image of his mother. All he could see was a faded flower print skirt and beautiful blue eyes with tiny flecks of green. He had looked into them many times as a child, memorized them, admired them, and they still seemed to be the one thing that he could never forget about the days before he lost his ability to see.

He'd paint those. A small smile creeping on his face. Although, he wanted more than some faded flowers and a color of eyes. He wanted a face to go with it, but there was no face left in his mind that he felt worthy to place with her eyes. He didn't want to attempt to paint Francis and fail to do him justice and Antonio could only imagine attempting Gilbert. He needed someone—something that he could touch and paint.

Sighing, he kept thinking, and then an idea started to grow in his head. A small seed that grew and snaked its way through his mind. Biting his lip, he shook his head. It wasn't a good idea. Lovino's description of himself didn't seem like something that would fit. As much as he adored his friend, spiky hair and beryl eyes did not seem to match together well. At least, not in the image he was imagining for the painting.

His phone seemed to stab him from behind, urging him to do it anyway. What was the worst that could happen? Plus, Lovino was a friend and Antonio would be able to easily attempt to paint him.

His fingers hovered over his phone and earbuds, the question of whether he should or should not call Lovino running through his head.

One one hand, it wouldn't do any harm. In fact, it would be good since he would be painting something and someone he hadn't before and would stretch his skills and would end up a good way to exercise.

On the other hand, what if it turned out that he didn't find Lovino to be an inspiration or at least enough of one to influence his project? He wanted to ensure that he was making the correct decision.

However, the more that he thought about it, the more the pros came out and the cons began to eliminate themselves. It didn't take long before Antonio picked up his phone and called. He waited, his heart pounding against his ribs apprehensively. The phone began to ring and Antonio waited, his free hand tugging at his shirt.

 _"You are one lucky bastard since I just got out of class. Why are you calling?_ "

"I wanted to know if you'd be my muse and allow me to paint you," he chirped, asking right away to avoid any chances of nervousness getting in the way.

It was silent, oddly silent. It sparked a fleeting flame of concern and demurral. The only sound was of something being stifled, but he couldn't thoroughly elucidate it to himself.

"I-" his voice cracked in bewilderment, "You want to paint  _me_? And  _why_?"

His nervousness began to take over and he had to fight to keep himself from cracking, "I know it's a bit sudden since we've known each other for like—a week? But but! You're becoming a good friend and honestly, I'm pretty sure that I would be in the middle of a mental breakdown right now if I didn't have you to at least ask to paint," he confessed.

Lovino went silent again, but Antonio still listened and swallowed anxiously. There was a small sigh and Antonio smiled, already imagining how Lovino was reacting at the moment, "Sure. Why not. We can meet up and talk about your plan for whatever you're doing and decide on whose dump we're going to."

"Sounds great! Bakery?"

"Bakery. Now, I have to get going because some of us have actual responsibilities and work to do. Talk to you Friday, loser"

"Got it! See you then!"

Lovino hung up and left a very ecstatic Antonio ready to jump up and down the walls. Deciding it to be a moment of celebration and believing that he deserved a reward, he pulled out some wine and poured himself a glass.

Had it not been for the fact that he had to head off to get to work in a few minutes, his lips would have been left wine stained once more.


	4. Azzurro

**_~Azzurro~_ **

* * *

 

_Love yourself. It is important to stay positive because beauty comes from the inside out._

_\- Jenn Proske_

* * *

_Esref Armagan – A Turkish artist who was born without eyes. I am quite fond of his works, they really are lovely and the detail is beautiful. He has been using oil paints for about thirty-five years now. I look up to him quite a bit as someone who adores the arts._

* * *

**_October 9, 2013_ **

_Tell_ me _Antonio, have you ever fallen in love?_

He tilted his head over to his French friend who was getting into his philosophical mode where he suddenly knew all. Gilbert was sipping at beer and all three sat on the roof of the Spaniard man's home saying their farewells as they parted for their careers. Well, two of them parted, the other was still stuck in the small town that he knew he was forever damned to be in.

"I can't say that I have. What does it feel like?"

Francis clutched his heart despite the tears pricking his eyes, "It's heaven and hell in one! You see that person and you think 'That person, I want that one' but then there's conflictions and arguments almost like the world does not want you together. There's the anxiety of wondering if you deserve them and the constant want to kiss and hold them. It's like going through a store of your favorite things, but your hair's on fire."

Antonio frowned and lifted the champagne bottle to his lips, "Love sounds terrible. Then again, it also sounds wonderful."

Gilbert sighed, "Love is awesome but terrible at the same time. It's indescribable because we're different. Yet, for everyone, love is confusing. You wonder and you wonder for a long time and sadly, some people never stop wondering. Some people are constantly falling in love and those are the people I pity."

Antonio thought about those words for a moment and took another gulp of champagne, "Then I never want to fall in love. It's beautiful, si, but I fear I may give my heart so easily and only be met with destruction and betrayal."

Francis laughed and shoved his friend lightly, "Such a sad life to never fall in love."

Gilbert agreed, "Yeah, what about all of the beautiful women out there? Wouldn't you possibly love one of them?"

Antonio shook his head, "If I fall in love, I want it to be because that person opened a part of me that I never knew existed. I want them to stay up with me to talk about memes and space. I want to eat old Indian food and laugh at outdated movies. I want to look at them and never feel afraid again because they will protect me. I want to be able to hold this person and let them know that they are the most beautiful thing on Earth to me. I want them to know that I'd fight hell if it meant that they were safe."

Francis and Gilbert listened closely and they frowned at each other. They knew what Antonio meant. It was a sad thing, but no matter how much Antonio lied, he would never be able to hide the feeling of sadness that was present in front of his friends. That small speech of his, despite how romantic it sounded, was something very sad indeed. His words really meant 'If I could see, I would be able to fall in love'

Antonio had always been one to doubt himself and assume that he had no future other than the library and art because of his disability. It was unfair too! After all, he was a handsome man with a kind and loving heart who deserved all of the love in the world. Sure, he had a temper and hated being called an idiot when he knew what he was doing, but he had more room in his heart than the anyone else in the world. It was quite a pity considering how everyone else in the town treated him.

It seemed that the world enjoyed being snobby, cruel, and idiotic. No matter how many times Antonio tried to make friends, they all turned him away because 'who wants to play football with a blind kid?' and 'he'll hold us back'. It started out as small things that they had lived with; but when Antonio started to shine and showed talent, people resented him claiming that he was showing off when all that he desired was to be normal and to be like everyone else.

He knew well that he wasn't ever going to see but he loved art so much that he did not give up. He loved music so much that he learned how to play instruments despite being completely blind. What else was he supposed to do? He wanted to be to like everyone else. The only difference was that he shot for the opportunities instead of sitting around and watching the world pass by without a so much as a second thought about it.

Francis found it sad that he was resented so after all of these years when all he had done was defend his honor and pride. His look towards Gilbert was a sad one that showed just how much he wished for his friend to find love soon so that he would know how special he was. He put a hand on Antonio's shoulder and smiled even if his friend would not see it, "One day, you're going to find somebody you love more than anything else in the world and Gilbert and I will only watch from the corners as you hopelessly try to figure out what is going on."

Gilbert snickered and nudged the tanner of them all, "Yeah, and then when you come to us helpless like a little bird, we'll laugh and tell you to remember that night back in October when we told you that it would happen!"

Antonio scoffed at his friends and chuckled, "That's easy for you to say, Francis has Joan and you flirt so much that I'm surprised you aren't already a father."

Francis rolled his eyes and folded his arms in disbelief, "I can't believe that you, Antonio the man of passion, refuse to accept that you will fall in sooner or later. I am lucky to have Joan and Gilbert, well, you know he's too focused on work to actually settle down. Plus, we're so young! We've barely graduated and are headed on our paths to becoming great! It's just like when we were kids."

Gilbert scowled at his friends who were snickering and blew a raspberry at them, cursing in German shortly after. They all laughed and enjoyed the moment as the wind blew and made the leaves rustle. The sounds of the night soothed them all. Antonio tilted his head up and silently made a wish. His friends watched him and frowned when they saw the wish.

Though Antonio thought that he was secretive, he was a pretty easy person to read. For example, when he made a wish, he scrunched his nose and mouthed each word.

' _God, please let me leave this town'_

It was the same wish he made every night. How Gilbert and Francis wanted to take him away from the town. Yet, what would they do? Antonio hated to be treated like a baby needing constant attention because of his blindness, so he would not be happy if they took him because he would not recognize the places and he would be at risk of getting lost if he continued to act the way that he did. No matter what they told him, Antonio would do something else in frustration of having to depend on someone else just to walk across the street. To him, it was just as bad as never fighting to go to art school.

Francis looked at his friend with a sad look knowing that he would be the first of their trio to leave the next day. Looking up towards the sky, he made a silent prayer for God to bring Antonio an angel that would show him that he deserved love after all; blind or not.

_'Tell me, Antonio, will you ever allow yourself to fall in love?'_

* * *

 

The rain tapped at the windogw making a melodious tune that Antonio quite enjoyed. He listened to it as he sipped at the hot cocoa in front of him. The sounds of people talking soothed him. Although quite a few people disliked him, others adored and admired him. It was simply fear of speaking to him because he was stubborn about being helped.

He put his fingers to his watch and felt for the knob that told him what time it was. He had been constantly checking it over and over nervously. It was strange since he had never been this anxious to meet someone. Then again, this person would be his muse and that was something exciting. For an artist to find his or her muse was like finding gold! Now he had one, and he wanted to paint this muse over and over again until he became a meme for it. Okay, so perhaps not the meme thing, but he still wanted to paint his muse many times.

He took another sip of his hot cocoa and waited, his hands instinctively running over the knobs on his watch over and over to feel that one that poked out the most. He crossed his legs and uncrossed them, fingers tapping at the wooden tabletop with anxious desire. Minutes continued to pass and his hot cocoa slowly emptied more and more. He hummed a merry tune and continued to wait, his fingers red from a number of times he stabbed his fingers into that one knob.

The door jingled as it was opened and his head shot up in anticipation. The angry grumbles and harsh words towards the weather put a smile on Antonio's face as he knew who that person was. When the smell of chocolate became present, he knew and he jolted out his seat and clapped his hands like an excited toddler.

"Ah! You're here! I'm so glad!"

The other seemed to scoff lightly and pull out the seat to sit down, "Of course I'm here, I told you I would be. I'm not going to ditch you, that would be rude and stupid. I am not that kind of person. Turtle Dork, I would have thought you'd have more faith in me," he teased with a smirk.

Antonio laughed nervously and rubbed his neck, "It's not that I didn't have faith in you, it's just that people tend to lie and leave me alone which is no fun at all because it's embarrassing but you're here and that's what's important!"

He quickly sat back in his seat and lay his head in his hands with an idiotic smile on his face. His feet were tapping mad fast on the tile ground and frankly, the amount of joy in him could have made any sane person sick to their stomach.

He remained like that, almost appearing as if he could see, "So, do you have a specific place that you would be comfortable with me painting you at or is anywhere good?"

Lovino thought for a moment, his hazel-green eyes peering at the smiling idiot in front of him, "Well, I'd suggest my apartment since it's cozy but emboorsonu.."

"Perdón?"

"Emboorsonu.."

"Ahah, Lovino I think I need to hear that one more time."

By now, Lovino was red-faced and embarrassed beyond belief. He slammed his face on the table, nearly causing Antonio's hot cocoa to tip over and groaned in misery, "I . . I'd rather not have you walk into the dump of a place known as my apartment!"

Antonio blinked, trying to process what had happened and once he did, he started laughing and could not stop. The entire room went silent as they watched these two college students; one dying of laughter while the other died of embarrassment. Antonio was practically crying and falling out of his seat at what had happened while Lovino looked ready to murder him with hard, rage-filled eyes.

Antonio lifted his head up, eyes closed and crinkled at the corners as he continued to laugh, "Lo siento! Lo siento! It's just that I already suspected that. I mean, we're in college, you just moved here, I would have been impressed if you weren't in an apartment," he paused, shaking his head, "Oh, that probably sounded rude. I'm sorry. I just mean that it's not a big deal to me if you're poor or not. It's something so silly, why would it matter?"

Lovino looked up at him, obviously angry that he had been laughed at, but pleased that somebody didn't care about status. Plus, as messed up as it sounded, it wasn't like Antonio would be able to look at his apartment and judge it.

He sighed and shook his head, "Whatever. If we're painting there then you better learn to clean up because I don't need to pay extra money to get that carpet fixed because you spilled a bright pink paint on the floor! Clear?"

"Crystal. I won't drop a single drop of paint on your carpet! You could hit me over the head if I do," he joked lightly.

"Trust me, Antonio, I'd hit you over the head even if you didn't drop paint on my carpet," Lovino snickered at the other, enjoying the look on his face.

He laughed and nodded, honestly not doubting that Lovino would fulfill his threat. In the couple of days that he had gotten to know him in, he realized just how much of sarcastic attitude he really had. With a soft smile on his face, he took a sip from his hot cocoa. Listening to Lovino was always entertaining because he knew that even though he spoke with harsh words, each one was used on everyone else so it did not make him feel bad. Perhaps at first, it was a bit shocking but not so much.

It was interesting, Antonio wasn't normally one to talk to people much anymore. He normally secluded himself to the people he knew. Of course, he would always speak to somebody if they spoke to him—it was common manners that one should be aware of. Still, he did not really socialize out of his small group which made this something surprising him. He was talking freely to Lovino, words that were sweet and funny. He was laughing and talking to somebody completely as if he had known him for a while. He actually quite liked it.

It had been so long since he had actually had asked someone to be his figure for a painting. In all honesty, he had no idea what drove him to this impulsive decision. He knew nothing about Lovino, and Lovino knew nothing of him. They were simply two people who despite being foils, somehow managed to work out a sort of friendship. What hit him was that the first thing that Lovino did each time that they met wasn't worry about him and his sight—he seemed to know in some sort of way. It was almost like he could detect that somewhere, Antonio could have smiled brighter.

With rain tapping at the windows, he found himself thinking about the person in front of him more. His fingers tapped at the wooden table top once more as he tried to pick up the courage to speak. His questions surely had to come off as strange? Also, did he have a look of disappointment or pity on his face whenever he saw the other? He didn't know at all and it caused him a little bit of stress. Quickly though, he pushed such thoughts away and tried to think of the good things like the fact that he had never really spoken to anybody in the town this long before.

Twisting his hands together, he smiled warmly, "You like to cook, si? What else do you like to do?"

"I like writing and psychology—I guess."

At this, Antonio perked up, "Writing and psychology? That's interesting. Is there a specific part for either?"

Lovino shrugged lightly, "I like creating historical fiction, mostly about World War Two because I have a fascination with that and I also really like writing about the Roman Empire. I also like to write about madness, and what goes on in the mind which explains the like for psychology. It's kinda stupid and it's just a hobby anyway. Plus, the last time I actually wrote was when I was sixteen and those were some gross years."

At this, Antonio frowned. His hands went over each other and his shoulders slouched forward ever so slightly, "I don't think it's stupid, in fact, I think it endearing. You can always have more than one thing that you like to do. Just because cooking is your passion doesn't mean you can't write on the side."

Lovino folded his arms loosely and leaned back in his seat, "I don't think I mentioned cooking as my passion."

Antonio laughed lightly and his laughter rang clearly. His head tilted downward while white teeth flashed, "You're a culinary student, Brad."

"Call me Brad again, and I will choke you and it won't be kinky," Lovino blew a raspberry at him.

Antonio snorted, "What? I didn't realize we were getting that close yet, Lovino."

"We get into conversations about random stuff that often gets personal whenever we meet. I think it's safe to say that I'm stuck with you now."

"Aww, but you care about me!"

"Whatever floats your boat, Turtle Dork."

Antonio pondered for a moment, before nudging Lovino gently, "What's the deep and meaningful conversation for today then?"

"Hmm. What about—what's life like? Being blind, I mean. Is it harder to make friends or do you just ignore people? What's the deal with you?"

Antonio smiled, and picked up his white cane holding it out towards Lovino, "I was given a white cane when I was a kid because a car accident stole my eyesight. Ever since then, I have made it my job to learn to use my other senses so that this cane and stay hidden for as much as I can keep it hidden. When learning to use your other senses, you tend to pick up on other things like how people react, the little words people say—small things. I'd like to think I read the atmosphere well but when you live in a word of nothing but black, you begin to ignore everything else except for the good and promising. Well, I did anyway."

"And the bad?"

"Some of us dangle onto the hopes of optimism a little more than most," he confessed, not a hint of shame present in him. In fact, he was still beaming.

Lovino frowned and looked at him, how was he still smiling so well? It didn't make sense. He said things that were sadder than anything but he smiled constantly and always seemed to be looking towards the good. He couldn't understand it all and it confused him more than anything.

After that, Antonio almost brushed it aside as if it had not happened. He simply smiled, ordered a coffee with a slice of pumpkin chocolate chip bread, and made a comment on how the rain sounded like beautiful music to him. His eyes did not see anything, but from the way that his fingers gingerly grazed over the cool table and how he smiled a little wider each passing minute that the rain continued, it was obvious that he did see something in his heart. His green eyes sparkled with joy of all of the things that he would never see. His attitude seemed so carefree and relaxed.

Lovino envied it.

Discussions of painting and projects that needed to be done flew off into the air, neglected and replaced with random questions by Lovino. Strange ones at that.

"But like, how do you  _wipe your ass?_  You can't see when you're done wiping, so how do you know it's okay to stop wiping?"

"I pray to God and the Virgin that I wiped enough times and then I wipe a few times more."

"I swear-"

The conversation carried on like that, Lovino asking Antonio common things about what his life was like. They made Antonio a bit uncomfortable at first, thinking that Lovino felt sorry for him, but he began to realize that it was much more than that and that Lovino was curious. He didn't blame him. So when questions like "how do you get dressed?" and "is crossing the street, scary?" popped up, he didn't mind.

Antonio felt his smile broaden as he listened to Lovino—he even laughed. The comments didn't have a grand impact on him. In the time that he had known Lovino, he had grown used to the snarky comments and the way he insulted people in such a blunt manner. it didn't matter much to him. He simply laughed and continued talking to Lovino, enjoying the way he got embarrassed actually. To him, it was sweet the way that he got flustered easily because it meant that behind all of that tough Italian skin, there was a soft heart. It pleased Antonio and honestly, in the past couple of days, he had never felt a friendship more free and lively than this one he had right now.

Lovino listened unlike the rest of the world that simply went on and let words pass by like nothing else. He liked talking to Lovino because unlike his other friends, Lovino's first reaction wasn't pity. Even if it was, he hid it well so Antonio didn't particularly feel upset. The rain's pitter-patter continued and the smell of sugar in the café was prominent. It made their laughs all the more joyful and Lovino's comments all the more amusing.

Neither could remember a time that they had laughed so much.

* * *

"Why did you even want me to be your muse?"

Antonio was a bit surprised. They were currently walking through the park in the chilly weather and having a small conversation on what a giant stress college was and the assignments that they had for every other class that wasn't their major. They hadn't really gotten much into depth after that. Mostly because every question Antonio asked that involved more about Lovino's life, he pushed it away and avoided answering it.

It was strange, but Antonio had accepted it and simply moved on to the next question in hopes of getting to know his friend a bit more. Here they were, ready to leap into a project despite not knowing each other for more than a month. The stranger part, suddenly, he wasn't concerned with perfecting the person who would have his mother's eyes. As important as all of them had been, they were all gone. Francis and Gilbert showed up briefly, but not a lot. Thus, he was letting go of the past, including holding his mother as his muse and beginning to lean more towards those who were in front of him right now—like Lovino.

Then there was the fact that simply being around Lovino made him want to paint more. He didn't quite understand it but it clicked in the park. One simple question and it felt like someone understood it all. He had acted not like himself but Lovino still spoke to him in the same voice as always. At first, it made him worry that he was annoying the other but when the conversation ended, he saw that it was simply the way that Lovino was.

Placing his hands into his pocket, he smiled warmly, "You're one of the only people who didn't take pity on me."

Now it was Lovino's turn to be surprised. He blinked and stared at the man in front of him, questioning his answer.

Antonio stopped for a moment and tapped his feet on the ground, pleased when he found a crisp leaf to crunch beneath his boot. He smiled wide as he did, quickly trying to walk to wherever Lovino was, "I know it seems dumb, but it just sucks having people not see me as a person and just some exhibit to go to when they want to seem like a good person. It's hard to explain."

Lovino quickly looked down, shrugging even though Antonio would not be able to see it, "It's understandable. People like to be selfish and dumb like that," he shrugged and then paused, "But, I'm sure your family at least treats you decent, if not really proud of your art, because you have talent."

"My mama was always so happy to see I was doing well at something. My brother was a bit protective of me and my papa, well, he thought it was cute at first. Then, he just snapped I guess, I dunno? But he didn't think it cute or nice; he thought of it as a waste of time and he wasn't the same anymore. It sucks, but I don't like to think about it too much." His voice seemed to dim down from the cherry tone it had previously been, "I consider myself lucky, though. I got the chance to see color, life, my family, my friends—not like Esref Armagan."

Lovino cocked his brow slightly in curiosity, "Who is that?"

Antonio lit up for a moment and clasped his hands together, the sad demeanor washing away in a confusing moment, "Oh, he's this amazing Turkish painter who was born without the ability to see! I love his work—never mind, it's silly. He's just a good artist is all."

"Talking about what you like isn't silly. You know what's silly? The fact that you think that that..that is silly."

"That that... _that_?"

"Shut up, English is dumb."

He still smiled, but that previous glow that radiated joy was gone and he was his normal self with a hint of joy that clung to him. It was odd, but Lovino still didn't know a lot about him and didn't judge him.

Antonio started asking a new set of questions almost immediately, wanting to know everything that there was to know about Lovino. His favorite color, favorite food, where he was from—he even asked about Feliciano. That one shocked Lovino for a second since he had only mentioned him once before. He brushed his hair away from where it tickled his nose and he thought about it all.

Antonio walked beside him, the smell of chocolate and spice the only other sign beside huffs and 'dummy' that escaped his lips with certain things that Antonio said. He liked it because as far as he knew, Lovino talked to everyone in a similar manner which eliminated feelings of possible pity coming from him. Antonio was quite glad about that.

He was free to talk to someone amazing and then make a joke about the most idiotic things such as Antonio's puns. Lovino was beyond confused, watching Antonio's mood and behaviors jump so wildly. It was almost exhausting the way that he was switching emotions so quickly.

It was hard to keep up with, but Lovino shrugged it off and accepted it. Plus, the walk would be quite boring, awkward, and overall awful if Antonio wasn't talking.

Even if it involved awful puns that could make the strongest man want to fling himself into the sun.

"Did you hear about the shoe factory that burned down? Yeah...over a hundred soles were lost."

Lovino made what sounded like a demon being exorcised and covered his face, a faint smile cracking from his lips as he cringed, "Oh my  _god_ , that was awful! You're awful, ugh!"

His laughter met Antonio's ears like soft jingles. Even if it wasn't the most graceful of laughs, it sent him high into the sky knowing that he made him laugh and smile. It was a nice feeling that bubbled inside of him.

Yes, Lovino could say that he was growing a bit fond of Antonio. He found himself smiling a bit, listening to awful puns as they walked, purposely moving slower just to make the moment last. Everything was nice for a bit, at least.

As they got closer to Lovino's apartment, Antonio eventually holding onto his white cane so that he did not get lost. He normally never left far from his house or the campus so he did not need to use it often. Right now, the fact that he was using it flicked something on inside of him.

His shoulders slumped low and his face hidden in the folds of his jacket. His bubbling words seemed to quiet more and more and instead of corny jokes about shoes, he simply talked about school again which was a step back from where they had been previously. It caught Lovino off guard and he turned to him, wondering what had happened to cause yet another random swing.

Yet, that wasn't the blow that caused Antonio to spiral back into silence. No, what caused him to clamp his mouth shut was the moment that someone else walked by and four words slipped from him that pulled Antonio down from his high.

"Poor guy. He's blind."

He fell silent and held onto Lovino a bit tighter, silence controlling him. His whole day was crumbling on top of him and the blame belonged to four little words.

Lovino stopped for a moment and grabbed Antonio's wrist lightly, "Hey—you okay there? What happened to making terrible shoe puns and killing my brain cells?"

Antonio was frozen in place and he tried to shake it off with a smile, "Ha, it's nothing. Euh—how much further until we get to your apartment, Lovino?"

He didn't like the answer, it was obvious that he wasn't being completely honest. He wanted to ask if he was really okay and he wanted to figure out what had stopped him from being so irritatingly happy. Yet, he couldn't, he wouldn't. If he bugged Antonio for an answer, he would get annoyed and he would leave and Lovino wasn't sure how many more times he could handle that.

Why did he care?

Why all of a sudden did his interest spark in some artist he had met in the streets? Why was it that he befriended him of all people? More importantly, how did Antonio not shove him away already considering he either sassed him or made comments that plenty of people took to much to heart? It didn't make much sense to him. But here he was, and he was greatly enchanted, wanting to change his attitude ever so slightly to be a bit more open and as teasing as he wanted to be. Yet, a string from his heart tugged, and he reverted into something similar as Antonio.

While it wasn't for the same reasons, nor did the same agonizing thoughts antagonize the both. However, one small tick and suddenly he was feeling just as small as Antonio.

As much as he attempted to reach and to talk to Antonio, he didn't know what to say because his brain rejected everything else. As much as Lovino wanted to ask and make sure Antonio was fine, he couldn't say a thing. So, he decided not to and instead simply walked with Antonio, lowering his hand so that instead of Antonio holding his arm, he was holding his hand.

Antonio meanwhile, was trying to smile brightly again and keep the terrible puns going. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to do it. His hands tingled and he felt his lips press together tightly as he tried to get an answer out of silent Lovino who wouldn't speak. Did he see him? No, he couldn't, it was something so small and it didn't matter.

There was a short huff followed by a weak muttering of 'three minutes' and Antonio smiled a little wider. Three more minutes was great! His tingling hands calmed by a little and he took a deep breath trying to relax. The soft clacks of his cane to the ground remained the only thing to break the silence that they were left in. Nobody said a word, people around them fell silent. His head was up high in false pride and his nervous body twitched every few seconds but he hoped that nobody saw, and nobody did.

Except for the Italian man that stood next to him. He frowned, wondering if he would ever quite understand what went on in Antonio's mind. It scratched his heart and filled him with sorrow that flowed out like blood.

Antonio just wanted to get to the apartment fast. Frustration inflicted itself upon him and burned inside of him like a million flames that enveloped his soul into a fiery inferno. His mind was focused on one thing and that was to get to that blasted apartment before he lost it. He could feel the numbness taking over him and he hated it. His breath quickened and his heart sped up.

He hated the feeling of the object in his hand. It was like something that destroyed him. He felt needles stabbing through the handle and pricking him. It stung and burned. He wanted to throw the object as far away as he could simply loathing it far too much to consider it a necessity anymore.

He wanted to-

A pair of hands grabbed him and he snapped from his thoughts for a moment. Chocolate and spice, but the grip of their owner was light and soft, "Wow! Calm down there. Are you sure you're fine?"

"Hm? Y-yeah. Just thinking. Are we here?"

A soft and disappointed sigh rang out before a delicate hand grabbed Antonio's arm loosely. "Yeah...just follow me up and I'll get some rubbing alcohol for your arms. You shouldn't do that to them. You have me a damn heart attack."

It was only then that he realized he had been scratching at his arm the entire time.

Antonio sighed in frustration at the realization he had overreacted once again.

* * *

_His slightly faded green eyes were filled with confusion, or perhaps it was his face. Whichever it was—he was confused, "But to be a visual artist, don't you need to be able to, well, see?"_

_The teacher smiled and leaned down to meet Antonio's height with excitement, "Ah, but Toni, that is the wonderful thing about this word. As humans, we are capable of pushing beyond our difficulties and becoming great! Esref was born without the ability to see, but he makes great paintings. Here, I brought with me an exact replica of one of his works and I want you to take it home and feel the texture. Feel this painting, trace each line, and you'll be able to see without your eyes."_

_The child laughed and nodded. He held his arms out wide for the teacher to put the painting in his hands. He had been feeling a bit blue lately since he had recently lost his eyesight. The wounds were not completely gone and he often had trouble walking, let alone drawing, but he was determined to continue on with art. He wanted to show his mama and papa that he was capable of doing things and that it wasn't their fault that he could no longer open his eyes to the yellow sun and blue skies. It had been nobody's fault—it was an accident was all._

_To have his teacher give him hope in knowing that one day he would be able to paint, draw, and create like the other students was a miracle from heaven. He knew that his prayers had to have gotten to someone! Hugging the painting that the teacher put in his arms, he smiled and ran off crying and stuttering thank yous from afar. His teacher had no idea how happy this made him and how great of a hope that was left in the small child's heart._

_Of course, he did not make it halfway across the schoolyard when he stopped and fell to his knees, still crying and trying to wipe the tears from his face. He placed his white cane down and grazed his fingers over the painting. He could feel each stroke and each bump. He smiled in joy and trailed his fingers along every part of the painting. His tears continued to fall and even though he knew that once he stood up he wouldn't know where he was going, he was content in the blissful thought of one day being able to be like Esref and paint even though he could not see the pretty blues of the sky, the shiny green of his brothers eyes or the sweet bubbling of hazel eyes that he had once seen when in Italy with his parents._

_He felt like he could still see the red of his favorite blanket and the flag of his proud country. It was almost like he didn't have to worry about never being able to see again because he had great hope and visions for the future. He wanted to paint—he knew it. He felt it and he loved it. He wanted to be an artist; just like Esref, but he wanted to be an artist because he wanted for others to see the wonderful colors that perhaps one day—he would forget._

_Antonio continued to cry, tears flooding down his red-tinted cheeks as he held the painting close. He was going to do things by himself and maybe then people wouldn't constantly feel sad for him! Perhaps soon, he'd be independent enough for the office people to stop saying he needed a caretaker. He like that thought. He'd be great and he would be amazing one day; the world would see._

_Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo would be remembered by all._

* * *

The sound of something sizzling greeted Antonio while the aroma of something—with paprika?—greeted him well. Antonio rubbed his arm, trying to erase the marks that he had left on his arm from scratching terribly. Lovino had cleaned them up. Thoe moments had been silent. He could feel them there and it disappointed him. With a sad sigh, he pulled his sleeve down and fell back on Lovino's couch with a heavy sigh. It had been about three hours since he had arrived and Lovino banned him from painting anymore because his house was beginning to smell like oil paints and other things and it was becoming a little too much for his liking. He 'wanted his house to smell like chocolate, not death' which made Antonio laugh a little.

Since it was still a little early and both had been hungry, Lovino agreed to cook for Antonio just this once. They had agreed that Antonio would have to pay Lovino with a basket of tomatoes each time he wanted him to cook for him from then on.

That had been another thing that Antonio has discovered; Lovino loved tomatoes as well. It was surprising because normally nobody ate tomatoes the way that they did and it was nice to have somebody who related. Lovino liked putting olive oil in sandwiches as well. Although considering that one was for good reasons and many people did it, Antonio wasn't as surprised.

Well, after the agreement, Lovino kicked Antonio onto the couch and told him to wait while he cooked food. Of course, this wasn't much of a shocker but it did leave Antonio anticipating whatever he would be served. After all, the entire time that Lovino cooked, he made comments on how his cooking was the best because it came from his hands and not an idiot like some other people. Assuming he meant him, Antonio chuckled lightly and listened to him. Honestly, his cooking could be better. He hardly made actual meals these days. In fact, the last thing he ate before the café and being at Lovino's apartment was fried Dino Nuggets from the back of the freezer.

It was filling but most likely not the healthiest option.

This was exactly why Lovino was cooking because it was bad enough he was forced to smell like old grease and cardboard cancer, but for Antonio to  _willingly_  smell like that—it was a sin against—something. Somewhere it had to be! It was unethical and completely outrageous! He was a grown man, not a two-year-old child! It was wrong and it needed to be stopped. He would not be eating freezer-burned dino nuggets on his watch!

Of course, Antonio was dying of hunger and sitting in the kitchen wasn't really making things any better. His stomach was eating at itself and he was miserable not having a meal or any wine after painting as much as he did. He had nearly finished too, but Lovino was still upset about it so he had to stop. This meant a large struggle trying to remember where he had been when last painting once he started again. He pressed his folded arms down onto his stomach and tried not to think about the immense pain that tormented his stomach that was pleading for some sort of nourishment to keep it from cannibalizing itself. Oh, why did cooking have to take so long?

Lovino looked over at him and rolled his eyes, "Oh calm yourself, you big idiot. You're not going to die! Plus, food is almost ready."

Antonio flopped over and hugged the pillow, miserable, hungry, and wanting to take a shower, "But Lovinooooo! You're taking so long and I have paint all over me."

Lovino nodded, clicking his tongue and facing Antonio, "Yeah, I know that. I'm still going to hit you over the head if any of my furniture is stained so pray to Mary that you didn't get a drop of paint on my couch."

_"Mierda!"_

Lovino smirked and turned off the stove as Antonio frantically felt around the couch trying to figure out if he had spilled paint or not. In reality, Lovino wouldn't smack him. It was stupid Antonio and he couldn't see. Plus, he was technically keeping him in his house so if any paint was spilled, he wasn't going to throw a fit about it. That was unless Antonio got a lot everywhere.

In that case, he'd personally castrate the moron—and with a rusty spoon.

He walked over, placing the dishes on the table along with the food for the evening. His lips pursed as he did and he looked up nervously at Antonio who appeared to be drooling all over the floor. While flattered, Lovino preferred he put that saliva to breaking down his food which he looked down to with shaky hands, "Turtle Dork, food is ready. Do you want me to—"

"No! I've got it, " Antonio interjected. Rapidly standing up, he started feeling around the room to get to the table. Though his white cane was seated on the coffee table, he did not pick it up and walked over clumsily without it. He laughed each time he bumped into something but eventually made it to the table. He pulled the seat out, sat down, and smiled as if he had not just hit his hip on twenty different objects walking six feet to the table. He simply smiled and placed his hands on his lap.

Lovino scoffed, "You're such an idiot, you know that?"

Antonio smiled wide, proud of himself. He was a puppy, constantly doing these things and becoming so proud of small achievements when he could have asked for help. He could have asked for help, and he should have, but he wanted to be independent. After all, should he ask for help, he would be labeled needy. Antonio didn't need that; he especially didn't need that from the one friend that he had at this point. His stomach growled in hunger, protesting the abuse that was being inflicted upon it and Antonio laughed lightly before biting his lip wondering how long it had been since he had dinner with a friend.

He was fond of the feeling. It was almost like perhaps, he was wanted after all. He felt strange because Gilbert, Francis, Bella—they had all loved him and made him feel wanted, but somehow this was different. He wasn't entirely sure how it was, but he knew that the way that he spoke to Lovino and felt prouder when he heard a strained laugh from him made him extremely happy. He liked the thought and reached his hand out to search for food. However, it was quickly smacked away with a certain Italian cursing and telling him that they had to say grace first and that then  _he_  would feed him since he was a guest. Antonio laughed but whined at the stinging feeling on his hand, calling Lovino cruel for not just telling him. He could be so rude to him! Then again, if he suddenly started acting nice, Antonio might have pushed him away an ran off screaming in fear of this not being Lovino. As much as the insults were rude, to him they were just as good as any compliment coming from the salty culinary student. He rubbed his hand while bowing his head and listening to the strange words that escaped Lovino's mouth.

When was the last time he prayed or went to church?—he couldn't remember? Did he even have the golden cross that his father had given him? The prayer still slips past his lips. Words that were comforting in the strangest of ways. However, it did not compare to the moment that Lovino whispered softly.

 _'_ _Open up opportunities for Antonio.'_

It was brief but the fact that it was said made Antonio feel all the better. The good feeling that filled him with warmth made him absolutely giddy but also a bit scared because Antonio realized a few things. He thought back to his friends and how they would surely laugh at him right now for not listening to the worlds that they had said to him before when they warned him of the coming of this. The way the feeling grew in his stomach and suddenly he was sitting there thinking about him and smiling as he did.

When he took the first bite of the food that he had been served, it was clearer than water. Antonio closed his eyes, scared, feeling sick to his stomach because suddenly Lovino wasn't just a muse anymore, he was  _his_  muse, or at least he wanted him to be. Oh, how he wanted him to be  _his muse_.

"Hey dummy, how's the food? You're too quiet."

He could hear Francis and Gilbert and even Bella teasing him about this silly development of feelings. It was unfair, for he knew that things were complicated. There were so many things he did know and the things that he did know seemed so unimportant; it was discouraging. He smiled, nevertheless.

With a small chuckle, he nodded and took another bite, "Your food is so good I was stunned. I was convinced that I saw St. Peter at the gates."

Lovino rolled his eyes, "You're such a dramatic kiss-ass."

"Passionate!"

"Idiotic."

"Aw, that's not fair," he pouted, trying to give a serious look only to fail and burst out in  _giggles_. It was absolutely odd and Antonio didn't seem to be able to stop. He only continued to giggle like a schoolgirl and take forkfuls of food. He knew that he had flattered Lovino just by the lack of harsher insults which made him giddy. He leaned on the table slightly and smirked deviously as he did, "Oh and Lovino, I think that you're attractive just as you are. There was no need to lie to me about your appearance."

This caught the other's attention and he choked a bit, flustered and shocked while trying to play it cool, "Took you long enough, airhead, how' you figure it out? Did you ask someone?"

Antonio shook his head, amused that he thought that he could have hidden something like this for so long. After all, he had to pay attention to details, "I've been touching your face for hours since I have been painting you. Also, you've put your hand on me a couple of times; if you were really what you said you were, you'd be oddly out of proportion. Your face seemed a bit off the first time, I mean, it would have been okay I guess, but it seemed quite thin and your neck wasn't thick enough to belong to a body as you described. Plus, your hands are calloused, yes, but they are also well taken care of and seemed rather, smooth. This was also something that didn't fit. Honestly, it was your voice that gave it away. You have a deep sound but not the right kind of deep to belong to a body that large. At least, I don't think so, unless you were perhaps training your voice which would be so cool! I think you're smaller than I am, much thinner too, but you still have some meat on your bones, and your walk is an arrogant one—"

"Sometimes, you scare the living hell out of me. For the record, I'm kinda chubby and I hate it. Still, you guessed that crap on point. Are you sure you're not faking it and you can see me because you are terrifyingly accurate."

Antonio shook his head, clapping at his success. He loved it when he guessed a person's features correctly! It was always the walk that he had to think about. A person's walk said a lot about them and it took quite a bit of paying attention. Lovino's walk seemed like it was one foot crossing the other so that he swayed and gave the image of confidence to everyone.

Most of all, the walk often gave a hint of thoughts towards him. He was content to find that Lovino seemed to walk indifferently around him and treat him as a true human.

Could anyone truly blame him for that? He didn't know what he would do if he were to find that Lovino one day though him a nuisance and wanted him gone. He had grown so close to him in the while they had gotten to know one another and it worried him because what if he got annoying or what if he was too much and he left? He knew that face more than anything else he had ever known. He knew where his chin pointed and where his jawline was strong, it was all etched into his mind so that when he painted, he knew what strokes to make and what places needed more care.

Knowing Antonio, he would forget the contours by the next day and need to start touching his face once again.

"Alright, back to eating, suck up."

"You're an excellent cook, you know. I don't think I've ever had anything this good."

Lovino flushed red and poked at his plate, "Thanks. But, it's not that big of a dish," he confessed.

Antonio shook his head and swooned as he took a bite of the cannoli that was next to him, "No, I'm serious! This is really good and is this cannoli? Mm, I think I've finally died and gone to heaven."

Lovino went even more red, smiling faintly as he looked down, "You're such a drama queen. Don't make such a big deal about it. It's food, not gold. If you love the food so much, why don't you marry it, you crazy weirdo?"

He smiled, knowing that Lovino was embarrassed and frankly, he was enjoying it, "Mm, I do like the food."

Lovino sat back, finished with his food, "Good, I'll have that potato in my kitchen be your best man."

Antonio smiled and clasped his hands together, "Ah, but I was hoping you'd be my best man! It would mean so much."

He snorted and rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his water, "How about, I crash your wedding and cook your best man?"

Their conversation continued, back and forth between who would be the best man and what food they would and would not have. It steered away from their normally sad conversations. Lovino was very against french fries and claimed that it would be disrespectful on the best man's behalf. The conversation itself had no merit whatsoever and consisted of random punches to Antonio's shoulder every time that he said something ridiculously stupid (which seemed to be often).

He had even offered to bring an entire can of mixed vegetables to show that he was fond of food diversity which made Lovino punch him again. Yet, he continued, offering to bring pies and all kinds of foods to show the others food that he wasn't 'foodist'. Antonio had never laughed harder and Lovino never cringed harder. It was an interesting thing for the both of them. However, time passed, hours flew, and the last bit of sunlight was fading from outside. The sun set and soon they both realized how late it was, Antonio trying to push away offers for Lovino to get him a cab.

He didn't know why he did it, it was a habit that he could not stop. He pushed away offers for help with a smile claiming that it was okay when he knew well that it wasn't. He was fine and he didn't need someone to aid him with things that he could do himself. Plus, he was sure that he could find his way home using his phone and going on Google Maps.

Lovino didn't seem too pleased about him doing things such as this all alone, "I'm getting you a cab."

Antonio shook his head, a nervous feeling taking over his stomach. His mind switched to shut down mode, his entire demeanor growing a lot more hesitant and panicked. He was pitying him, he was acting just like the rest of the people that he had met, "No, I'm fine—really."

Lovino wouldn't take no for an answer and shook his head in frustration as he washed the dishes from their dinner, "Antonio, it is really late and I'm getting you a cab. You can argue with me all you want but I'm getting you a cab. You said it yourself, you've never been to this part of town and I don't care if you have Google Maps. It is late out. It's either I get you a cab or I walk you home. Now, I am sure that the last thing you want is to walk home with me having to cling to you. I am getting you a cab, capisce? Now sit down and have some wine or something before I get you out of here"

"Yeah. . ."

"Good."

Antonio sat there, defeated and honestly feeling a little discouraged. He knew that Lovino meant well but the feeling in his mind told him that it was nothing but pity and it made him feel sick to his stomach. He hated the thought of Lovino being just like that and not caring about him actually but rather wanting to send false senses of hope and lead him on into thinking that their friendship was real. He pitied him and only wanted to make him feel like someone cared. At least, that was what his mind told him.

It was an awful nagging feeling that argued with his logic. Logic said that Lovino was worried, which was nice, but irrationality gave him luring whispers that tainted his senses and left him believing that nobody could care and that there was only pity.

It was upsetting to feel like this and what he hated was that it came and went. Sometimes he felt fine with little offers for help, other days, he wanted to scream at anyone that offered him help. He hated himself more than anything else these days. He lay down, reaching out for the wine and upon feeling it, poured himself some and took a giant gulp. He wanted to forget that horrible feeling and be happy. While he knew that alcohol was a depressant, he was clinging to the nearest thing that he often went to. He'd forget about the irrationality and then he could accept a cab ride from Lovino without wanting to scream and shout.

When he finished that glass, he poured more, downing it just as fast. He repeated the process twice more, the feeling of the delicious liquid running down his throat.

As he reached to refill his glass again, the bottle was snatched abruptly from him. He knew who had taken it from him and though slightly irritated, he was fine. It wasn't his wine anyway, he shouldn't have been drinking so much anyway while at someone else's house.

Lovino was in shock. He turned when he had seen Antonio down the entire wine glass and it concerned him making him wonder how many glasses he had gulped down like that. He didn't expect him to drink it like it was water in the middle of a stranded desert—just a glass. He frowned slightly, not sure what was going on with Antonio but he didn't like it.

It gave his stomach a sickly feeling and his entire body goosebumps. He did not say a word as he took the bottle locking it away while his heart pounded mercilessly against his chest. Heavy breaths escaping him and a small twinge of fear.

No more words were said between them, Antonio sat in silence, too ashamed to do anything. He ruined such a good mood too. Eventually, Lovino made a small grunt noise so that they could walk downstairs and get outside to wait for the cab. They remained silent as they waited, the cold breeze being the only noise besides faint laughter from afar and the occasional car that passed by. Besides that, there was no noise and the tension grew.

This wasn't the same silence from the park. This one sank into Antonio like venom and it tortured him some. He was aware of what his decision had been and the worst part is that he had no regrets for drinking the alcohol. His regrets came from making a fool of himself. He wanted to do the same when he got home; open the cupboard to the welcoming Vino Tinto and possibly if he still had some Coke, Kalimotxo.

The silence continued, a piercing and loud one that was good for driving a man mad. There was no peace, no lovely grass. Instead, they sat on the cold cement steps as cats meowed, sirens wailed, and drunkards passed by. Lovino cringed each time they did.

Antonio was the one to break it. It was too silent for him and he didn't want to end on bad terms with the guy, even if it was more or an awkwardness than anything. His voice was faint, "I could have walked..."

Lovino snapped his head towards him, now angry, "Are you going to go on about that? Antonio stop it already you idiot! You couldn't have and I wouldn't have let you. Why is it such a big deal to you anyway?"

"Do you pity me?"

The question was so simple, to most it wasn't a big deal. Yet, with the way Antonio bit his lip and slumped his shoulders low, Lovino was left frozen in place. He stared in shock wondering if he had made him feel bad with his words and actions.

Antonio sniffed and repeated once again, "Do you pity me?"

"No, I don't pity you. What kind of question is that?"

"Do you hate me?"

"No. Antonio, what are you getting at?"

He didn't answer him. He only stood up, grabbing his things and dusting himself off, "Bueno, that was all I wanted to know. Thank you for the amazing meal today," he stated with a smile, "We can go to my house next time if you'd like."

"Whatever you want, nerd," he gave a forced smile, but he was glad that Antonio wasn't planning to end everything because of a strange reaction.

Antonio's smile grew by just the slightest, "I want to be good friends with you."

The cab came a few moments later. Antonio got in, Lovino handing him his things. And just before he left, Lovino told Antonio to not drink.

His voice was strange, and it confused him for a moment, but he agreed and promised to do not such thing. His internal plans of drinking himself into a stupor quickly faded or got pushed down for later. Lovino cared, it was comforting.

Yet, as Antonio rode home, he couldn't help but feel slight discomfort. For some unknown reason, he simply couldn't believe that Lovino didn't pity him slightly. He had to—especially after the wine incident. Everyone pitied him, even his own friends. No matter how big of a liking he had on Lovino in the future, it would remain a fact in his mind that he pitied him. He wasn't different from the rest of the world—so why did he like him so much?

_'Tell me, Antonio, will you ever allow yourself to fall in love?'_

**_'One day, but that day isn't today and it may not be tomorrow. I just know that it is one day.'_ **


	5. Vedere Rosso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait. I had writer's block and could not write a thing. However, I now present you with the next update of Antonio and Lovino's story. Please keep in mind that this is all unedited and I know that I missed many grammar errors as well as spelling errors. Still, I hope that you enjoy this! I'm back!

_**~Vedere Rosso~** _

* * *

_I've never seen anyone drink themselves smart, successful or happy - most of them are broke, bitter and alone._

_-Unknown_

* * *

It was one of those days.

It was one of those miserable days where Antonio had no energy at all. In fact, all that he really wanted to was to lay down and forget that the world existed. He wanted to sit in his room that felt like the air was heavier than anything else and forget it all. It was dense, and he felt drowsy. Everything around him felt so grey and slow and he himself hardly had the energy to move his hand up to turn off his alarm. He was out of it and the feeling was awful.

It was almost as if somebody grabbed a plastic bag and had it tightly around his face blocking off oxygen. He was suffocating and the harder that he tried to release himself from the torture, the worse the suffocation got. He was a small being at the bottom of an ocean. Water poured into his lungs and made everything heavy. He was drowning in the salty water and being crushed by the pressure. It was unbearable.

Without a single hesitation, he began to weep, not sure for the reason. Things were fine for him! He had a friend who was his muse, he was on track to accomplishing his dream from when he was young, and his friends whom he had missed would be visiting.

If anything, he believed himself to be pathetic and greedy. Why did he have to act like this? Was it for attention? What purpose did waking up like this randomly do for him? It did not benefit him in the slightest, instead it only caused him more and more calamity in his life. It was despicable and unfair.

With the faintest laugh, Antonio cursed his own existence and his choices. What if he had chosen to neglect his chances when he was younger? What if he had chosen to listen to his father the first time that he had told him that becoming an artist was a silly dream?

Would he still have his family?

Would his mother embrace him and tell him that she love him?

Would his brother still speak to him?

Antonio didn't know, but he still wondered just what his life would have been like if he had listened that day all of those years ago. If only he had listened; if only he had realized.

But he didn't.

And his family was gone.

Antonio accepted that a long time ago. He chose his path that day, and now he would have to live with the consequences that came with it. He chose art, wasn't that what he wanted?

So why was it that he woke up feeling like this still, years later?

Dragging himself out of his bed, he grudgingly made his way over to his bathroom to get ready for the day. If he stayed in bed all day and avoided work, his friends would be able to tell right away that something was wrong and then they would accuse him of needing help when he knew that he didn't need help at all. Then they would call his bosses and everyone would pity him and try to help him when he knew that he was fine.

Antonio didn't want help, he just wanted to prove that he was strong enough to get through these things. He wasn't weak and being blind would not limit him of his future that he had been working hard for since the day he first put a pencil on paper to draw.

He managed to get ready, but his heart was completely out of motivation for normally vibrant eyes were filled with nothing but a glazed look and misery. Yet, he managed to mask it. He got dressed, putting on a dress shirt and pants, ate something because he knew that if he didn't eat, he would regret it, and started walking to work, pushing the thoughts aside for he knew that he needed to focus on where he was walking rather than his own self-loathing.

The world went on, swirls of golden joy embracing everyone while a grey cloud of despair clung to him, pleading for his attention. The worst part was that he gladly obliged.

* * *

Things did not heal from there, no, they only seemed to get worse. Antonio desperately tried to reach out for the slightest form of joy that he could find, but only grew weary and distanced himself further from the happiness that had seemed to be at his fingertips only moments before. Thus, he sat in the library and mindlessly ran his fingers along the braille cover of the book that he held. He sighed silently and wondered if he really was doing anything for himself at all.

Even this place that he worked at was a library for the disabled that his parents had helped build back when the accident had happened. It seemed like everything in his life was set up.

_What about college? You got into that without your parents' help!_

He shook his head, pushing his positive thoughts away. They had accepted him because he was blind and it made them look good. Or at least, that is what he told himself time after time. Diversity always seemed to be something that looked good. A blind immigrant, how amazing! Did he really do anything for himself? Was he even worth a second glance?

As he sat there, he wondered what he was going to do after college. Obviously, he wanted to be a painter, but he needed something to support him while he was creating. While he had no doubt he'd at least do decently at making money, just in case, in case things didn't go the way that he wanted, he needed something else.

But that was where the problems began. What would he do? He couldn't work on a computer, he couldn't see! He couldn't work as a cook, he'd surely cut his hand or do something else to injure himself. He'd break his leg because he missed something, he would do something and then he would be put into a nursing home because he had no family and all of his friends were far away.

Suddenly, Antonio found himself smiling for a fleeting moment because he felt something besides the limbo feeling that he was cursed to feel nonstop. Although he would have prefered to think about happy things, he at least felt something and that was good enough for him.

"Wow, he frowns. Here I thought you were perfect," a voice called out. Antonio tilted his head up weakly and blinked in confusion.

Lovino had been standing there for a few moments actually, trying to make conversation and not sure how. As crass as it made him seem, he was glad Antonio was blind so that he could appear more confident when having to talk to him.

The thing was, he wasn't sure how to approach the man. This was the first time in a long time that he found someone interesting enough to talk to. It was difficult for him to socialize well and not make a fool of himself. The last thing that he wanted was to say something stupid and ruin his pride and any chances of keeping Antonio as a friend. Sure, the man had a bit too much wine when he had him over, but as long as he didn't take it far - things would be okay, right?

Of course, Antonio did not know this and simply thought that Lovino had found him which was interesting. He forced a small smile, "You think I'm perfect, do you?"

Scoffing, Lovino folded his arms and turned away, "I  _did,_ past tense."

Antonio chuckled lightly, "Aw, that's a shame. So what brings you here?"

Lovino folded his arms and looked to the side for a moment, "I heard that you worked here and I wanted to know if you wanted to just hang out again. Last time wasn't really your day, I'm guessing, and I'd like to get to know you better."

"I'd love to," Antonio smiled a genuine smile, though faint. In the noise of the day and the horrors that he dealt with, just having someone want to be around him made things a slightly better, "But not today. I'm having a couple of old friends over for a night together."

Lovino raised his brow, curiously, "Oh? I haven't ever seen you with friends. Then again, I don't see you much so obviously I don't know everything about you or about these friends of yours."

Antonio laughed forcefully, he was sure that the other could detect it well, "Well, they're a lot more successful and living better lives. I'm just a blind artist. We've been through a lot together. Drunk nights, mistakes, hurt, comfort, all of it. Chances are tomorrow I'm going to have a hangover from whatever we do tonight."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Lovino felt his heart drop to his stomach while a bitter taste went to his mouth. Of course, Antonio didn't see the way that his eyes seemed to go dull and how he hugged himself nervously, his lips frowning. His suspicions were confirmed and now that he got a better look at Antonio, he saw that the man wasn't everything he had thought him to be. His hair was messy, bags under his eyes, and pale skin. He looked awful.

Was he honestly expecting to drink with his buddies when he looked like he could barely stand on his own two feet? It disappointed him and Lovino found himself turning away fully from Antonio, suddenly not wanting to be around him. He had seen what alcohol did, and he didn't like it. Still, he needed a friend. As much as he wanted to deny it, he wanted a friend so badly that it hurt him to think about not having one. Maybe he was simply joking and they really didn't get drunk. People exaggerated a lot. It wasn't like Antonio was getting drunk every day, right?

Antonio, who had been sitting there with no response, grew concerned, "Lovino Are you still there?"

Lovino glanced up and nodded, quickly realizing his mistake and clearing his throat, but it cracked anyway, "Yeah I' still here."

Antonio did not detect anything out of the ordinary. In his mind, he was having a normal conversation with his friend. It might have had something to do with the fact that he didn't have the best mindset at the moment, or it could have just been the fact that he couldn't see the facial expression on Lovino's face that cried out horror, disapproval and above all, the want to run as far away as possible from this drunk. Yet, at the same time, he was afraid of leaving and being left all alone. He didn't catch onto the way that his voice cracked in discomfort or the steps that he was taking back. Nothing. For once, Antonio was truly blind.

"I don't drink much myself, be due to the fact that I'm still underage," Lovino shrugged lightly, his hands in his pockets.

Antonio nodded, leaning on the table, a little more relaxed and calm (whether that be a good or bad thing was yet to be determined) versus Lovino who seemed tense and almost afraid. His mind was still a blizzard for the most part, but he somewhat trusted Antonio so that relaxed him a bit. Still, it wasn't by much at all.

As for Antonio, his mind was still empty of all emotion and he was plastering smiles and emotions to not upset Lovino. Most of his senses had left him already, "Understandable. Maybe once you are legally allowed to drink, we can go out and get a few of them, si?"

It was at that moment, that Lovino's voice cracked and his mind went blank in terror. He took a couple of stumbled steps back. No matter how much of a friend Antonio was, he would not become an alcoholic with him.

It was at this moment, that Antonio also finally recognized just how uncomfortable Lovino seemed to be. He finally caught the voice crack, the stumbled steps, and could almost taste the tension on his lips. Realization hit him hard causing the air to leave his lungs and his ribs to crush in anxiety at the thought of scaring the only friend that he had away with his obsessive behavior with alcohol. He felt guilty for letting the hints fly over his head and it turned his legs limp making grateful to be sitting in a chair at the moment.

Lovino didn't want to be around him and that hit him harder than anything else had hit him in years. It was a feeling like the world was slowly collapsing, dust, glass, ashes - all headed to his sightless eyes and piercing his skin. Finally realizing what was going on, he was filled with immeasurable shame. Quickly, he tried to come up with some excuse to make things less awkward for them all. Yet, he came up with nothing at all. He had no way to escape this.

"We don't have to go drinking. Euh, we could go do something else," he murmured, attempting to fix the damage that he had done. Sadly, Antonio sent the crack too far and now he was walking along a tightrope of decisions that would either keep things the way that they were, or cause everything to crumble to the ground. He hit the wall and that was that.

Lovino looked away and gave slight shrug, "It's whatever. Euh, I have to get going, turtle dork. Just send me your address and I'll head over to your place tomorrow after class. It's whatever, no biggie."

It didn't take a genius to know that Lovino was trying to avoid him at the moment to avoid the thought of having an alcoholic as a friend. Whatever the reason behind it was, he didn't know. Nor was he sure that he wanted to know. He was sure of one thing, however. He had managed to feel an emotion.

Unfortunately, that emotion was guilt.

* * *

Antonio still had not managed to snap back into his normal cheery personality by the time that Francis and Gilbert had arrived. In fact, some might say that he was much worse at this point because the only emotion he carried was guilt.

He didn't want his friends around and that was saying a lot as he hardly saw them at all anymore. Antonio was dreading the thought of seeing his friends, so when the knock at the door came, his entire mind seemed to shut down emotionally.

Plastering another smile on his face, he answered the door only to be greeted by a warm embrace and the familiar scent of roses that could belong to only one person: Francis.

"Francis! It's great to see you again," he exclaimed.

It was at that moment, that Gilbert walked in. Now Gilbert, being the troll he is, smirked and gave Antonio a hard slap on the back, "But you can't."

Antonio scowled for a moment and turned towards the sound of his voice sticking his tongue out, "You know what? I hope you choke on some panini you albino dickhead."

Francis sighed and let go of Antonio, "Play nice, girls."

Gilbert gave puppy dog eyes and pointed limply at Antonio, "He started it!"

Antonio shook his head and shoved both of his weird friends aside. While he was still feeling pretty empty besides guilt, he tried to remain positive for his friends. The last thing that he wanted was for either of them to feel bad for him and try to fix things when there was nothing to fix in the first place.

Antonio started making his way across the room, "Alright, enough acting like fools. What are we doing today?"

Francis gave a slight pout and folded his arms, "I was under the impression that we would be doing the same as we always do, Antoine."

Gilbert pulled out a couple of bottles of beer, the clinking noise reaching Antonio's ears, "Exactly. That's why I brought this beer and Francey-pants bought some wine. What were you thinking of doing, Toni?"

Antonio shrugged, not really in the mood to drink, not because of what Lovino said, but because he wasn't feeling in the mood for it at the moment. It was stupid of him not to consider Lovino, yes, but that was Antonio, "No se, I just was thinking we could sit down and watch a movie or something. I'm not in the mood for drinking today."

Francis and Gilbert looked at each other in slight concern. It would have taken a complete idiot to spend as many years as they had around Antonio and not notice what he was really thinking. Watch a movie? The man only owned three movies because all he could do was listen to them! They put down the alcohol and Francis was the first to go up to Antonio, a soft smile on his face.

They were aware of what Antonio believed. They knew that he thought that they would attempt to send him to a nursing home or to get help. While both wanted Antonio to talk to someone about how he was feeling, they didn't pry and simply sat with him during these things.

Francis put a hand on Antonio's shoulder gently, knowing that he didn't know that they were aware, "That sounds nice. Come on, Gilbert. Let's watch Butterfly Tongue! Antoine loves that movie."

Gilbert nodded, going up to the shelf and picking out the familiar movie that Antonio indeed put on every time that he was like this when they were over. That was exactly what they did.

As much as Antonio liked to believe that he was the one with the upper hand in these things, Gilbert and Francis knew him well. With this knowledge, came the knowledge that Antonio sometimes needed nothing more than silence and the sounds of a movie to relax him. While Gilbert remained concerned that Antonio might try something rash and Francis worried that he might be hurting those around him as well, both sat there beside him and watched a simple movie about fascism. Because sometimes, a doctor was too much and asking him to drink was too stupid. Sometimes, watching a movie about a boy and his teacher was all that was needed.

And sometimes—that was just as they all liked it.

"You know we love you, Antonio?"

"Of course."

"Good."

Some things didn't need much. All any of them needed was the support of each other. That's what friends did. They loved you enough to just sit with you and watch Butterfly Tongue.

* * *

By the end of the night, Antonio had fallen asleep and Francis covered him with a blanket. As adorable as Antonio looked when he slept, he snored like a dying cow. Gilbert and Francis liked it though, because it was Antonio. Francis hummed softly while Gilbert went to the DVD player and removed the movie.

As soon as the movie was put away, he spoke, "Franny, I know you hate last-minute things, but he needs us here."

Francis, who had still been humming, sighed softly and looked up at Gilbert, "I don't know what to do anymore, Gilbert. These episodes seem to happen more and more. You know I would gladly stay here to watch over him, but this is Antonio. The man refuses to have anyone watch over him; he's a stubborn mule."

Gilbert nodded in agreement and looked at their friend, "I know he is. But Francis, look at him. You know just as well as I do that he isn't doing well. Now I feel like a jerk for making that joke earlier. I don't know if he's in one of his emotionless states or extremely sensitive ones. Francis, Antonio only has us. Most people don't give the man a chance when they figure out he's a little more hesitant than everyone else! It's so stupid and considering how he refuses to make friends, let alone flirt, I think we are all he has."

Francis sighed and nodded as he put a hand gingerly to Antonio's forehead. He moved slightly and murmured something in his sleep causing Francis to give a fleeting smile, "I am too, Gilbert," he pushed his hair back and buried his face in the other, "And you're right, he needs us. I'll call Joan. I won't force Antonio to do anything, but I at least want to be here for a little bit and make sure he's okay. Even if he hasn't done anything rash, if we just leave, it could get there. Especially now that his brother has moved out."

Nodding in agreement, Gilbert walked over and sat next to Francis. Antonio looked relaxed which was more than they could have said for his appearance when they had first arrived. Gilbert nudged Francis and gave a half-smile, "Let's not frown. Antonio hates pity, you know that. We won't help him by saying 'Poor Toni', we help him by being by his side like today and understanding. He'll talk and ask for help when he's ready. Forcing him would be a dick move."

Francis looked at him with a glazed look in his deep blue eyes, "And if he is never ready?"

Gilbert put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Then we stay by his side. I'm not saying to stay here forever. We have our lives and our own families. But yeah, if the guy decides he doesn't want to, we can't really do anything except for what we are already trying. You can't magically help those that don't wanna be helped. You can only try to show them the good side and some of them never see it. We're his friends, we should understand that more than anybody else."

Giving a short nod, Francis walked over to Antonio's closet and took out a couple of blankets—tossing one over to Gilbert with a smile. As Antonio's friends, they were a bad influence most of the time with their antics and drinking; but during moments such as these, they were the pinnacle of support for him.

Gilbert carried Antonio up to his bed, struggling at that, while Francis cleaned up downstairs. When Gilbert finally tiptoed downstairs, making sure not to speak loudly, they called their beloveds and described the situation. Sweet promises of love and gentle touches were whispered before the two hung up with aching hearts that longed for the embraces of their partners. Yet, upon remembering why they were where they were, the longing hurt less and was replaced with the bold and fiery determination to bring Antonio from the lowest levels the highest peaks.

As the crickets played their melodies and the skies painted wildflowers turned violet and blue, Gilbert fell asleep while Francis lay awake. He stared at the portrait that Antonio had painted of he and Gilbert on the wall. An ephemeral small grazed his lips and he closed his eyes with one last thought lingering in the depths of his heart.

_Antonio, will you ever know how much we adore you?_

When morning came, Antonio remained asleep; as well as Gilbert and Francis. Now, as much as the two were fantastic and observing Antonio's emotions, they failed when it came to his actions. In the midst of Butterfly Tongue, the movie that Antonio never left to take bathroom breaks from without pausing, Antonio excused himself to use the bathroom. This was so that he could take his phone out, turn on the voice command, and send a text to Lovino telling him his address for the next day.

Antonio, with all of his heart and white image that many adored, often forgot to check his phone and did not notice or ignored the messages from Lovino asking for a time before giving up and saying he would arrive at ten o'clock after his only class for the day. This was something that would end becoming quite the surprise for everyone.

Gilbert had been taking out the alcohol to organize it since Antonio did an awful job at making sure things stayed nice while Francis was starting breakfast. Halfway into warming up the coffee, a knock at the door was heard. Both men turned their heads up in confusion and assumed it to possibly be a few church leaders. Not that either minded really since Francis was a Catholic and Gilbert was in the Christian branch. Since it wasn't a big deal, Francis pushed his golden hair up to answer the door when the knock was heard again and followed by an interesting comment.

"Antonio, you useless turtle worshipper, open the door.  _Fuck man_."

Francis blinked, tied his hair back, and quickly made his way across the room to open the door. It should have been the cold air that contrasted with the warm that made him take a step back, but instead it was the shivering honey-hued man there. The man who had been muttering curses in another language paused and stared up for a moment in brief confusion and annoyance. His lips were curved in a look of horror and he took a small step back. Both were thinking the exact same thing: who was this man? Azure eyes widening for a moment, Francis opened his mouth to speak, but the other beat him.

"I'm so sorry—this idiot must have given me the wrong address. Unless he has roommates—but he told me he lived alone. Wait, you must his friends he was talking about. Eugh, is this where Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo lives?"

The man was surprised. He stared at this person and he was confused as to how he and Antonio knew each other. Fellow artist perhaps? No, Antonio would have told them about him considering how competitive he was. Plus, this man didn't look like he was here to discuss contouring techniques.

Sleek clothing that embraced him and a rouge shirt that was sharp and mature in a way. He was dressed much too neatly. His hazel eyes burned into Francis almost as if they were judging him and his pink-tinted cheeks seemed to hold anger and sophistication. He almost felt as if he were in the presence of a serpent that enchanted him. He nodded and leaned on the doorframe, "Oui, and you are?"

His tone came off rude and demanding. He realized that all too late. Lovino scowled and scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Calm down, Pepé le Pew, I'm modeling for him," he snapped, "Where is he?"

Francis didn't move from his spot. This man was bold and bitter. Now he was truly questioning how he got along at all with the much more relaxed (at least in appearance and words) Antonio, "He is sleeping. He never told us that he had a model. What's your name?"

Lovino scrunched up his nose and took a step back, "Nothing important to you. I am simply his model for a painting. And does he have to give you a play-by-play of his life? From what I've heard, you're gone most of the time and come only to get him drunk so of course, he wouldn't have any time to tell you things," he spat in an accusing tone. His eyes were slits and he wrapped his scarf around his neck better. His gloved hand was lifted up and pointing at him in an accusing manner.

Raising his eyebrow, Francis put his hands in front of him with a softer look on his face, "Apologies. I must have come off as rude. Also, while we all enjoy a good drink or two, we don't always drink. Although, it would seem the most memorable of things have occurred during those times. You'll have to come back later since Antonio is still sleeping. Unless of course, you want to come inside and wait until he wakes up."

Lovino did not want to do that. He already disliked this man and the albino staring at him from afar wasn't any better. He shook his head and folded his arms. His cheeks turned red and his eyes went back to slits. It was one thing if Antonio had lived nearby where Lovino was, but he didn't. In fact, Antonio seemed to be living a very wealthy life based on his house and neighborhood. How was it that he was a broke college student, yet he could afford the luxuries of this home? He seemed to be living a pretty decent life versus Lovino who was living a pretty pathetic life in a crappy apartment that he was barely clinging to.

He opened his mouth to make a comment when he got a good look inside and he felt all color drain from his face. The entire counter was covered with bottle after bottle of wine, tequila, vodka, beer—anything and everything. He didn't see Gilbert so he assumed that every bottle was being inhaled by the two idiots. His eyebrows furrowed momentarily before he let out a small huff.

_'Not drinking much, huh? '_

He bit his lip and looked up at Francis with the same cold look he had been giving him this entire time. He took a couple of steps down before stopping at the last step and glaring up at the blonde pretty boy that seemed to mock him at the door, "Tell Toni that next time he wants his muse, friend, whatever- to come, to make sure he's actually awake and sober," he growled, not thinking twice about what he said other than a small twinge of regret that pierced his skin. He couldn't take it back though. He huffed once more, turning away and making his way off of the large property to go home.

_'So much for a friend.'_

Lovino felt stupid.

Yet, even as he walked through the cold, he didn't want to accept it. He wanted to pretend like Antonio wasn't as much of a storm as he appeared to be. Oh, how he wished for the clock to turn back to the day he first met Antonio and he met nothing but a ditzy, joyous, blind artist with a large heart. How he wished that he had never invited him over and seen the first hint nor visited him that day and listened as the second hint was dropped. Lovino wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock and to forget that Antonio had a problem and pretend like he had a normal friend that he wouldn't have to worry about missing when he left or trembling at when he grew drunk.

Maybe he was joking. Perhaps he really didn't drink as much as he made it seem that he did. Maybe he was just bad at holding his liquor and got drunk quickly. Maybe he was a funny drunk like he read about in books and saw in movies. Perhaps he wouldn't grab Lovino by his wrists, nor slam him against walls or spit on him. Perhaps he wouldn't feed on his fear and walk over him. Maybe Antonio was having a bad week or he just drank because his friends were coming.

Somehow, he couldn't accept that this was the truth about his friend. He came up with excuse after excuse, demanding for a different result and a happier route where Lovino wouldn't hide in a corner to avoid glass shards or lie to the doctor about his bruises and cuts.

He wouldn't have to say that the 'dog bit him' or that he 'fell off of his bike'. He wouldn't have to run under his bed or scrub the smell of alcohol from his clothes that had been used as rags. No, Antonio would laugh and talk about how funny the word 'platypus' was and pass out on the floor. Antonio would cry at books like  _Everything, Everything_  and  _The Fault in Our Stars._ Lovino lied to himself because it was all he could do to prevent the hurt of realizing that his only friend was an alcoholic.

Maybe that wasn't his alcohol or maybe he was giving it to a bar. Lovino couldn't stop. He didn't want to accept it because that meant never failing to feel the fear of Antonio coming after him and terrorizing him.

Why did he want to defend him so much? He was just a painter! So what if he was blind, that didn't make him more likable than the next person. Why did he care so much about a stupid artist that was drinking himself worthless? He had his drunk friends to stick with, he didn't need Lovino to be around. He could paint one of his stupid friends.

As he made his way along, he stumbled on broken cement. He finally snapped out of his moment of self-confliction and realized that it wasn't Antonio that needed him to stay. Hugging himself, he sighed and looked away.

 _'It's just a drink,_ cucciolo _. I promise not to drink much'_

Apparently not, because here he was with a friend that he wasn't sure he knew anything about anymore. A million thoughts and a million memories raced through his mind and it felt like venom being injected into his skin.

_'Lovino, why can't you be friendlier? You're only getting yourself into trouble at school'_

He didn't know. Maybe if he had been friendlier then he wouldn't have had to have become friends with Antonio and watch as his friend started showing his true colors that reflected hues of grey and black that trapped him in a corner wondering if he should stay or if he should run. For the moment, he was running as far away as possible. If he had been friendlier, he wouldn't depend on Antonio at the moment so much for friendship because he was lonely. Eugh, he hated the fact that humans required contact with other humans to stay sane.

Lovino was lonely. Yet, this wasn't the simple feeling of being in a room by himself and having the capability to call a friend and ask him to come over. No, this was the type of loneliness that wrapped itself around him. It gnawed at his entire being and drove him mad. It laughed and mocked him with vile intentions. This type of loneliness whispered sweet nothings into his ears and sucked his energy away. It chuckled as it pressed kisses to his skin during the silent hours of the night in a reminder of the fact that he was alone in this town and that he had chosen a school that while good, was so distant from everything that he had ever known.

It was in that moment that he realized that he hated himself more than he could ever fathom for wanting to be around Antonio.

Antonio, the man who smiled at all of the colors that he would never again see. Antonio, who saw the vibrant autumn shades and breathed in hues of bright reds and purples. Antonio, who did not treat him as a toy. In fact, he was the first person to treat Lovino as an actual human being and not a broken plate. He took time to try and get to know him and for the first time since he lost Alfred, Lovino felt like he was ready to openly talk to someone about all of the sensitive things that he kept buried inside. Like how much he loved his brothers and how much he was afraid of fireworks.

He allowed himself to get ensnared in the trap of smiles and endearments. Now here he was, Lovino Vargas, breaking apart because the person he thought would finally relieve the empty feeling turned out to be someone to make it wider. Antonio was an alcoholic.

And that wasn't okay.

Call it overreacting, but it was a big deal to him. He'd try again another day. Some other day. He just wouldn't try today.

Lovino—so caught up with his own self-pity and his hatred towards Antonio, didn't even notice the fact that Francis had walked out and watched him as he walked, practically seeing the grey cloud over his head.

He watched him for a moment more before letting out a slight 'hm' and turning to make his way back inside. The cold was getting in any way.

Once Francis was back inside, Gilbert looked at him confused, "Who was that?"

Clicking his tongue, he walked over and leaned on the counter with his lips curving in confusion, "It seems that our friend has not told us about his new  _muse._ "

He stretched out the last word, making sure that Gilbert understood what a big deal this was. Having a model was one thing, but a muse? He wondered if the poor boy even knew what that meant, especially coming from someone as secluded and alone as Antonio was.

Gilbert's eyes widened ephemerally and he put down the bottle of wine that he had been holding, "A muse? Isn't that—something romantic?"

Francis shook his head, holding his hand up to explain, "Not at all. A muse is simply a reason to do what you do. An inspiration if you may. It could be a family member, a lover, a friend, anyone that gives you strength. Now, if I remember correctly, Antonio hasn't had a muse since his mother. I believe we have a bit of interrogating to do, Gilbert, my old friend."

Red eyes glinting with a sense of mischief and excitement, he chuckled as he put the last bottle away, "Does this mean...?"

Francis nodded, picking up one of the carnations that Antonio constantly kept around his house and smirked, "Indeed, it's time to bring back that little detective group we created when we were kids! Now, what did we call ourselves? The Bad-euh-the Bad Three? Bad Touch Three? No, that's not right. Hm. Whatever it was, we're bringing it back! Only this time, it's Antonio's turn to get investigated."

Gilbert clasped his hands and grinned wide, "This is going to be fun!"

Francis turned up to look at the stairs, making sure Antonio wasn't arriving yet. He put a finger gently to his own lips, "But we can't say a word to him. Act as oblivious as possible. The last thing we need is for him to get upset."

Gilbert nodded and gave a hard smack to his chest, "Someone as amazing as me would never let that happen. Now, we should probably wake him up. Knowing Toni, he won't get up at all unless we drag him—"

"You two give yourselves too much credit. Just because I enjoy sleep does not mean I have absolutely no self-control."

The two jumped slightly at the sound of Antonio's voice. They hadn't even heard him come down the stairs. This raised slight concern for their plan. Antonio yawned and made his way down the stairs. He looked much better than he had been the previous night, he was even smiling what appeared to be a genuine smile.

He walked over to where the coffee machine was and poured himself a cup of coffee, grabbing some sweet bread from his cake dish, and sitting down at the dining room table. Both friends watched him carefully for a moment, analyzing his behavior and deeming it worthy enough to be declared as cheery Antonio's normal attitude.

Antonio yawned once again and tilted his head a bit, "Are you not going to eat breakfast or did you already eat?"

Gilbert quickly shoved bread in his mouth from pure instinct while Francis sat down with Antonio, "I'll eat in just a moment. Euh, Antoine? There was a boy at the door earlier. He said that he knew you, but I wasn't sure. He had a sharp tongue."

Antonio choked on his bread and started coughing madly, eyes widening and his face filling with what appeared to be terror. This caused Francis to smirk slightly.

Antonio coughed more and when he finally stopped, he quickly covered his mouth with one hand, "He left?"

Francis smirked wider, Antonio  _was_  hiding something about this muse, "Mhm. Was he important? He didn't look like a buyer or an art critic."

Antonio quickly stood up and ran to the closet digging inside for shoes, " _Mierda!_  You should have gotten me up! My muse just left and he seemed so cross yesterday. Do you know where he went?"

He stopped and did not have time to turn when Francis walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to see to know that his friend bore that pompous grin that he got when something mildly interesting occurred in Lovino's life.

"Forgive me if I misheard, but did you say a  _muse_ _?"_

Antonio cleared his throat, "I think you misheard."

This time it was Gilbert who walked over and quickly tugged at Francis' sleeve, "Ooooh! Antonio has a muse!"

"Oh, shut up," he muttered, "You act like you found out I lost my virginity. He's a friend who has made things a lot easier to deal with in life in general. He's also very funny. You both are never around and for once I don't feel pitied by someone here. He didn't seem very happy yesterday either, so who knows how angry at the moment," he didn't stop there. No, Antonio continued to ramble in Spanish and soon both friends were confused and had no idea what he was saying minus the small curses here and there.

Normally Francis and Gilbert would have continued to tease Antonio. Their friendship was partially based on tough love. However, instead, Francis found his face filling with concern when he saw how Antonio looked. This wasn't a simple  _'crap, I messed up_ _'_ moment, this was an  _'I'm about to lose someone important'_ look. Whether Antonio realized it or not, Francis was starting to pick up on the fact that he may have started clinging to his muse more than he should be.

Gilbert saw it too and frowned slightly. They hadn't seen him look so concerned about losing a friend in years. Turning to Francis, he cleared his throat, "Franny? Do you know where he went?"

He was filled with guilt. Francis should have made the man stay, but he let him go. Now Antonio looked concerned and they weren't sure what to think of that. They weren't used to something like this after years of seeing him so neutral when it came to socializing with other people. Sure, he smiled and was polite, but he never really built a connection.

What they had thought was Antonio being a little oblivious about a potential friendship was actually Antonio being concerned because he  _had_  made a friendship that he was afraid to lose.

Francis' bright blue eyes dimmed and he looked at Gilbert, "I'm so sorry. I only saw him walk down the street. Do you by chance have his number?"

With a short nod, he pulled out his phone, turning on voice command and attempting to call Lovino to see if he could come back. It hadn't been too long after all. When he didn't answer after the third attempt, Antonio sent his friends out to look for Lovino. He couldn't have possibly have gotten far in the short time gap that had occurred.

It seemed that somehow, he did, because Francis and Gilbert returned with no idea of where Lovino had gone at all. So, Antonio called again and again. Each time was met with the familiar sound of the voicemail with Lovino's voice saying 'I'm not here, call again later'. After about an hour, he gave up, got dressed, and Gilbert drove him to class. Francis stayed behind and decided to clean up a bit.

All the while, Francis questioned what exactly caused his friend's muse to react so. Friends didn't normally get this frustrated over something like this. Sure, maybe somebody would curse over the phone about having to walk in the cold or having to walk a certain distance. Maybe even ignore a couple of calls, but to ignore Antonio to this extent seemed a bit off.

So—why did he?


	6. Blu

_**~Blu~** _

* * *

" _Nobody dies a virgin—life fucks us all."_

_**-Kurt Cobain** _

* * *

The thing about Antonio, once he had his mind set on something, he didn't stop. This was why Francis and Gilbert found themselves sitting up at six in the morning because Antonio was creating an elaborate plan on how to find Lovino.

Neither of the two was exactly happy about being woken up so early when Antonio didn't have class and didn't have work until the afternoon.

"I swear I'm going to chop your dick off for waking me up," Gilbert muttered as he struggled to stay awake. It was one thing for Antonio to tell them his plan at breakfast. However, it was another thing for this idiot to wake them up, knowing well how they felt about it, and insist they magically find energy so that they could listen to his plan.

This wasn't the worst part, no. Nor was it the fact that Antonio didn't buy any coffee. No. The worst part of it all was the fact that this Spanish dork had made them stay up until one in the morning which meant they were running extremely low on energy.

"Antoine, you're a sadist. Can we please go back to sleep," Francis groaned as he struggled to stay awake.

"No. If I recall Francis, you scared him off. Now, let's review the plan again and we'll grab everything and set out to look for him," he chirped in a voice so happy that it made both of his friends want to rip their lungs out.

"Toni, buddy...who the hell is up at this hour besides you?"

"Many people."

"I'm going to strangle you in your sleep," Gilbert threatened, eyes red not from the fact that he was albino. He was going to murder Antonio, chop his body up into separate pieces, throw his body parts into various parts of the Mediterranean, and when the police asked, he would tell them that Antonio had finally gone back to hell where he belonged.

Francis, on the other hand, wouldn't be as extreme. Feeling instead he was going to shave Antonio bald, dye his skin blue, and shove a stick down his throat. If he was feeling like it, he would chop his fingers off and serve them with escargot. He was not in the mood for this.

How Antonio had the energy for this, they didn't know. Suddenly, the desire to revive their mischief from when they were teenagers was not as appealing. If it meant losing hours of sleep, hell no.

"Did you get that Francis?"

Quickly jolting his head up, he looked at his friend, "Euh? What was that?"

Antonio sighed and shook his head, "I guess we have to review everything all over again."

Francis and Gilbert never groaned louder in all their lives.

Francis bit his lip. He glanced over at his friend and stood up from his spot. While frustrated about being woken up without coffee, this wasn't why he put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "Toni, don't you think you're going at this all wrong?"

Gilbert froze in his spot and was wide awake for a moment. He shot a look at Francis, eyes wide while Antonio sat with his mouthing hanging open by just a bit.

Francis sighed lightly and moved closer to his friend, "I'm not saying this because I'm tired, Toni, I'm saying this as your friend. Maybe you're approaching this wrong. He left for a reason and I think perhaps you're going a little too big with this."

Gilbert raised his brow. He was a little more awake now, "Uh, Francis, aren't you the king of going big?" his arms were folded and his mouth clasped into a thin line.

Francis pursed his lips for a moment, his entire face scrunching up in confliction, "I know I am. I'm simply worried that maybe this isn't something that needs a grand show. Some people like those apologies and others don't. Something tells me that this little friend of Toni's doesn't quite appreciate grand shows. Something obviously upset him, so our job is to figure out what exactly it was that upset him."

It was Antonio's turn to seem to fill with a look of confliction. He crossed his legs together and hugged his arms across his chest. He gently scratched at his arm while biting his lip. This did not go unnoticed by Gilbert who gently reached to stop his scratching. He gently lowered Antonio's arm and his face filled with great concern.

"Toni? What's wrong," he asked in a calm voice.

Antonio bit harder on his cheek and did not move his head up to the sound of his friend's voice. Giving a false smile, he shook his head, "It's nothing."

Francis looked over at Gilbert and nodded gently. Francis put a hand on Antonio's shoulder, "Toni, what's eating at you?"

Antonio tried to keep the smile up despite the guilt eating away at him and he took a deep breath, "Did he say anything before he left?" his arms wrapped around his body tighter and his nails began to dig into his skin.

Gilbert removed Antonio's hands gently once again and held them in his own hands. He looked up at Francis with a look that whispered a million words of curiosity and concern.

Francis cleared his throat, "Besides what I already told you, he did mention alcohol. He seemed bugged by it a little more than most people get. Did something happen before we came?"

The words sent rocks to the pit of Antonio's stomach and he swallowed nervously, squeezing Gilbert's hand tightly. He didn't seem bothered by the fact Antonio was practically stabbing his hand.

He let go and curled up more, his legs drawn closer to the couch and his head hanging a bit low, "I've noticed that too. He went quiet the first time I mentioned you guys. Also, I may have had a bit of an overreaction at his place and-"

Francis looked a bit confused at first. What bugged him so much about alcohol? At the mention of the small overreaction, he looked at Gilbert with an extremely concerned face. Their friend did have the tendency to drink more than he should when his emotions spasmed.

Antonio coughed lightly, "We haven't really talked about topics like that a lot, but I think he may have a valid reason for getting upset. I just don't know what."

While Gilbert massaged Antonio's hand to relax him, Francis was the one who spoke, "Then that's where you need to start. I'm guessing he saw the grand collection of alcohol and assumed you were hungover. Don't go wandering the streets right now and don't go searching for him, but wait. When you meet again, just have a calm chat with him and don't do anything big. Talk and then explain the situation. Whatever his reason for being sensitive about alcohol, he'll let you know. You have to understand that he has experienced something leaving him afraid of being put in a situation with alcohol, no matter the amount. Don't pry at him, don't ask, just let him get back to feeling comfortable around you and eventually everything will explain itself."

Antonio took in every word that his friend said and nodded. Big plans were a no. Prying was a no. While he did want to know what exactly was upsetting Lovino, he didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable. He would take Francis' words to heart. It did make him feel a bit better along with Gilbert's massaging.

That's how they all fell asleep. Antonio in the middle, Francis leaning on his shoulder, and Gilbert laid on both of their laps still holding Antonio's hand as if he were massaging it. It seemed that waking up early after staying up late was not the best idea.

* * *

Lovino had no intentions of calling Antonio back. Not only was he furious about having to walk home after being told to walk to Antonio's house (which was nicer than his in many ways and it pissed him off), but he had found out that his lovely friend was an alcoholic (at least, that was what he was picking up) and he was not in the mood to deal with any more idiots in his life. Even if he was lonely.

It took all of his willpower not to pick up the phone with a number of times the idiotic meme-slut of a friend of his was calling. Eventually, his ring tone got annoying and it was Chiara Galiazzo; he loved Chiara Galiazzo

So, it was a miracle from the heavens when it stopped. In fact, Lovino started thanking the great Lord above.

He didn't want to ignore Antonio, he just wasn't comfortable around him at the moment. He didn't plan to ignore him forever, he just needed a couple of days to relax and breathe. His paranoia and emotions got the best of him. He felt dramatic of all things.

Lovino felt like a little kid who threw a tantrum because essentially, that was what he had done. He could have handled it better. Simply because two important people in his life drank themselves to the point where they weren't themselves didn't mean Antonio would do that.

Plus, he was an artist. Many people he knew drank. Hell, he drank a bit occasionally. He was a cook! Wine was a common thing that he used! People drank! Just because someone drank didn't mean that they were an alcoholic!

But, then there was the fact that he had seen it. Not just that extremely large collection of alcohol, but that time that Antonio downed glass after glass of wine. It put him off and he found himself irritated. It wasn't that he condemned drinking, he simply condemned people drinking extreme amounts of alcohol. From what he had seen, it seemed that Antonio was drinking more than he needed and Lovino wasn't okay with it. Drinking brought back bad memories and events that he wished that he could erase.

Normally, he didn't care about people and their habits since he hardly spoke to many people. This was different though; he finally made a friend and he did not want to babysit that friend when it came to his drinking.

Maybe he was overreacting. Perhaps it was just something that would never happen again. After all, he had never seen Antonio drink much before that day.

He threw himself onto his couch and screamed into a pillow out of frustration. Life fucking sucked. Worse, it was early in the morning and he had class in a few hours.

His cat meowed and walked over, rubbing himself against Lovino's loose arm. Moving slightly, he looked at his pet and sighed, "Pazzo, can you please stab me with a spatula and take me out of my misery?"

The cat obviously did not respond. Rather, he tilted his head and stared at his owner.

Lovino groaned and fell back into the pillow, "I just don't want to have to babysit someone else only to find out that they don't give two shits about getting better. I don't need to waste any more time on useless sacks of rice that don't know when to stop chugging down alcohol."

Again, the cat did not respond.

Lovino only groaned louder and screamed a chain of long curses and buried his face deeper into his pillow. He had no answer. Friends sucked; they made you question things like this and want to fling yourself into the sun.

Or maybe that was just him.

His friends sucked.

He really didn't know what to think anymore. He was honestly stressed about this. He didn't mind if it was a casual drink and Antonio knew how to control himself, but the man hadn't shown that to him and the anxiety inside of Lovino was beginning to build up.

He wasn't around to ruin Antonio's fun or his youth. Lovino just didn't want to see another person lie between booze-tainted breaths. He was afraid—as much as he refused to say it. He could hear the screams all over again. He could feel the glass beneath his toes in the morning when he woke up to clean it because there was nobody else inside of the house. He could feel the hands around his wrist, yelling at him, throwing him to the floor without a care.

He could feel his tears pouring down his face while he covered his brother's ears. He could feel the pain in his heart that slowly grew numb over time until soon the cries became a normal part of life and the glass shattering remained as another reminder of less money that they would have for that month.

Lovino was fine with people having an occasional drink most of the time. His problem came when it started becoming more frequent. After growing numb to many emotions from the neglect that came with alcohol, he always seemed to get paranoid whenever someone else drank.

Staring at his cat, he sighed. Looking at the clock, Lovino closed his eyes. The least that he could do was attempt to get at least an hour more of sleep before he had to head off to class.

* * *

Antonio did just as Francis had suggested and did not go through with elaborate attempts to try and talk to Lovino. While bumping into him on accident was a difficult thing to do considering he could not see when he was near, Antonio was still determined to find Lovino and talk with him.

Admittedly, it was difficult for him to try and forget about the fact that Lovino was upset about something that had to do with alcohol. He had no idea what was going on, but Francis was usually right with these sort of things, so he planned to just let things happen. That was if he even got the chance to find Lovino again.

He was walking to class and while he knew that Lovino also had class, he doubted he would take the same path that Antonio took after seeing how upset he seemed to have gotten. It was unlikely. Honestly, he respected what Francis said and would go through with it, but it did not change the fact that he was concerned that maybe he would no longer speak to Lovino and it was a terrifying thought to think about considering how attached that he was beginning to get towards Lovino. He stood by the crosswalk and waited to cross. Today was one of the few days that he was comfortable with taking his white cane out and tapping it. Although, he really should have used it more considering the fact he really couldn't see.

Suddenly, Antonio felt a hand around his arm breaking him from his thought as he waited to cross the street. He furrowed his eyebrows. That did not feel like Gilbert's wide and calloused hands or Francis' delicate yet rough ones. It didn't take long for him to realize what was happening.

"I can help you get across the street if-"

Antonio did his best not to seem as irritated as he felt inside. He knew that whoever this was meant well, but it didn't change the fact that it irritated him a lot. He pulled his arm away and gave quite a forced smile, listening and feeling to make sure no cars were passing, "I'm fine. I can make my own way across the street."

His tone must have come off as rude and perhaps a bit cocky because the person who had been attempting to help him now seemed to let out a sound of shock and offense. Antonio didn't turn back to apologize mostly because he was running to get to class. Besides, that was something that would have bugged anyone in his position. He understood that the person, whoever they may be, was merely attempting to go through with a good deed, but asking before grabbing his arm would have led to a less irritable situation for him. He didn't like feeling like he couldn't do things by himself.

Since he had been in this situation before and knew the person had been planning on crossing the road as well, he had a good feeling that he was going to have a person demanding to know why he reacted the way that he reacted. Antonio was right, because the minute that he stepped onto the concrete, his arm was grabbed again. He didn't pay attention to the faint smell of chocolate and spice.

The feeling of fire filled his body. It was like acid was being dropped on his arm. He pulled it back and tried to keep walking silently only giving a small "Don't" to the mystery person.

"Look. If you don't want to be around me anymore, just say it already! I'm not going to spend every moment of my life just trying to guess what is going on in your thick head!"

Antonio paused in realization. Oh, it was Lovino. He turned to where his voice had been coming from, "Lovino?"

"No, it's Santa Claus. Who else is it going to be," he retorted. By this point, Antonio was really not fazed by his sarcasm and attitude. It was simply another part of Lovino's personality. Really, the sarcasm was a normal part of life now.

Giving a light chuckle, he rubbed his neck, "Sorry. I was just a bit irritated about someone assuming I needed help and grabbing me randomly. I'm not a fan of that."

Lovino raised his brow lightly and folded his arms, "Yeah, I saw that. Well, I can understand not wanting to be touched randomly by a stranger, but the helping part?"

Antonio bit the inside of his cheek and gestured for Lovino to follow him so that he could continue walking to get to class on time, "It's just—I hate the way people assume that because I am blind, that I need help. I understand wanting to help out, but if I'm not asking, I don't think they should be touching me at all. It's uncomfortable and it seems like I am being told I can't do something as simple as cross the street. People mean well, but nobody likes being treated like they are unable to do simple tasks."

When Lovino went silent, Antonio assumed he had made him mad. He didn't really expect many people to understand. It's hard to understand many things and the need to feel human by blind people is one of the hardest.

"I understand what you mean completely," Lovino finally spoke breaking Antonio's thoughts and counting. Granted, he was now holding onto Lovino's arm as they walked to the campus. Funny, he hadn't even realized that he did that. He was too focused on the fact that Lovino said he understood. He hadn't expected that. Of course, it was different.

"I don't know how it feels through your point of view, but I know what it feels like to be treated as an inferior," he added quietly.

He stopped biting his cheek and his heart beat a little faster. He was surprised and actually a bit happy. It had been far too long since someone had been able to comprehend anything that went through his mind. Especially things like this.

He smelled the cheap food from the food court that told him he was on campus. One more road to cross. Interesting how he hadn't even realized the slight tightening of his hold on Lovino or the fact that he had crossed four other roads. He had been lost in thought, silent, thinking about the fact that while it may not have been exactly what he was looking for in understanding, it was close enough to make him feel better about things.

Lovino cleared his throat and gently removed Antonio's hand from his arm, "Alright, well, this is our split. I guess I'll see you around or something." His voice was a bit rough and hesitant.

Antonio took a step forward to start walking to get to his class, but paused and puffed his cheeks out, "Hey, Lovino? I'm sorry about what happened that day. I know that must have pissed you off a lot. Euh, if you still want to, maybe you could come over again later this evening so we can finally get to painting?" His voice was hopeful despite the slight sound of what seemed to be sadness that trickled in with his words.

Lovino had already taken a couple of steps to leave. He paused upon hearing the words. Anxiety clenched tightly in his chest and he felt his lungs close off for a moment as flashes of bad memories went by his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he thought for a moment and nodded, "Yeah. Just don't have your weird friends over and I want zero drinking while you're painting."

He was aware that his demand might have been silly to Antonio and honestly, considering the amount of alcohol that he had seen, he had doubts about Antonio following through with it. So he was surprised when he heard a chirpy 'okay' come from Antonio before he left and continued making his way to class.

Lovino rolled his eyes slightly, wondering why he had bothered to talk to him, and continued his way to his own class.

If only he had been aware of the great joy that he had left in Antonio just by agreeing to continue with the painting session.

* * *

Francis and Gilbert had gotten kicked out by Antonio. This had surprised them by quite a bit really. However, they complied and left without much of an argument. Antonio was quite excited to get back to painting Lovino. He was especially glad that they had been able to push past the bump in the road.

Antonio wanted to call it a fight, but he didn't feel that it was the correct term to describe this. A misunderstanding perhaps? Well, Lovino had reason to suspect what it seemed he had been suspecting. Whatever it was, Antonio was glad that they were moving on past this.

He was so happy in fact, that he actually cooked for once. He pulled out the cookbook that Gilbert had typed out in braille for him despite his protests and claims that he was fine—sometimes his friends were really great. He made some food that he had memorized by heart and something from the cookbook. He may have overcooked.

Yet, who could blame him? He had this friend who he without a doubt wanted to keep in his life and he was determined to make sure he didn't do something stupid. It was a hard thing for Antonio to comprehend really. All of his life he had only had Gilbert and Francis. Lovino was the first person in a long time who he was allowing into his life easily. He was always so cautious with others even if he was polite.

The people in his neighborhood and his college thought him a show off most of the time or some sort of competition. A few complimented him, but even they seemed to only be interested in becoming holier than the crowd and Antonio rarely gave most a chance. It wasn't their faults, they just didn't know how to handle the mess that he had tangled himself in.

Then there was Lovino. Somehow, this random culinary student had intrigued him. Was it the fact that he was hit with reality when they met and treated like any other person? Was it the fact that it still continued?

Probably. It meant so much to him. The difficulty of wanting to be understood always strangled him. So he was allowing Lovino into his life and he wasn't pressing down on the brakes for once. It felt nice. Oh, did it feel nice.

He didn't feel disabled, he didn't feel half-baked; he felt human.

As soon as the doorbell rang, Antonio bolted to the door to open it. He didn't count his steps or think about where he was going so he ended up stumbling and hitting things. But that wasn't his concern right now.

He opened the door and beamed, "Sorry! I was cooking!"

Lovino chuckled a bit and poked Antonio's chest, "If I weren't the one being painted, I would think you had already started. You're a mess, dork."

Antonio laughed, "Sorry! I just dropped stuff and didn't bother to change since we were going to be getting messy anyway."

Lovino arched his eyebrow and walked inside. Antonio's house was really nice and neat. Never mind that, Antonio's house was large. How did one college student afford all of this? He dressed like he came out of a trash can so Lovino was confused. Even now, Antonio was wearing a shirt with dabbing Squidward. Ugh, how could he wear such a thing? It was repulsive. Bringing his thoughts back, he closed the door behind him and folded his arms, "Yeah, don't get me dirty. The one who actually cares about how he looks is wearing Armani."

Antonio seemed a bit surprised, "Armani? That's-"

"Expensive. I know. Which is why I am surprised I found it selling so cheap at a second-hand store. I'm may be poor, but I actually care about how I look. Plus, who turns down designer products when they're really cheap?"

Antonio nodded, seemed fair enough. One time Francis had found some Gucci at the second-hand store. he bought it even if he didn't need it; he did that a lot. Antonio really didn't care much about the brand of his clothing. As long as he had something on his back that looked decent, he was fine. Although considering he was constantly wearing T-shirts with old memes on them, decent wasn't the best word to use.

Lovino coughed, trying to break the silence, "Are your friends over? I smell—"

Antonio shook his head, "No. I thought we would probably get hungry while painting, before, after. So um—I made food. Hopefully, it doesn't taste awful? I don't know. Are you going to Gordon Ramsey my cooking skills?"

The comment actually made Lovino smile ephemerally. His lip twitched and he stifled laughter, "Yeah. Move it, stinky artist, the professional is here to judge your meal,"

Antonio took a step back and put a hand over his chest, "I'm shaking in my bunny slippers!"

Lovino gave a playful roll of the eyes and walked to the kitchen. He was surprised to find it so clean despite Antonio looking like he had been dragged through the mud. He walked over to where the food was set up on the counter. He looked over curiously and lifted the lid. He was taken back a bit by the wonderful smell.

Antonio walked over and smiled warmly, "Do you want to eat now or—"

Lovino shook his head. While the food smelled good, he had stuffed his face with cannoli and couldn't eat anything at the moment, "Later. Let's get to painting. Remember, if you get paint on me, I'll castrate you and make a meal out of your thumbs."

Antonio pouted slightly and gave a small whine, "Aw, but I like my thumbs."

Lovino gave Antonio a playful hit to the shoulder and looked around once more. He felt a bit out of place in Antonio' home despite the fact he was the one who dressed better. It was just the fact that he felt poor beside Antonio. He didn't know what to think as he looked around. As dumb as it was, he had assumed that Antonio lived in a crappy apartment just like he did and not this beautiful house. Although, it was dark. Really dark.

He must have gone silent for too long, because Antonio broke the silence, "Lovino? You still there?"

Lovino shook his head to bring himself back and cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah. Let's head off then. Lead the way, loser."

Antonio gave him a bright smile and reached for Lovino's arm. He pulled him upstairs, only realizing that Lovino couldn't see after he had already tripped over the thing and hit his head on a lamp. In his defense, getting a blind man to remember that other people needed light to see was difficult when he had very few friends.

Lovino couldn't argue with that.

While getting to his studio was an interesting experience, that wasn't the part that stuck with both parties. What stuck with them was painting itself.

Lovino looked up curiously as Antonio had him sitting and posed perfectly. He was amazed at how well organized everything was. Every color was put in the correct order. This confused him at first and then he realized that Antonio had labeled the paint jars with braille. Was that how he chose—when he decided to dress like an actual adult—his clothes and was able to make them match?

Antonio didn't seem to notice Lovino spacing out because he continued to adjust Lovino and then adjust his tools until he was ready. Each touch was gentle, just like it had been the time before. While Antonio collected every detail that he could from feeling around Lovino's face. Fingers grazed gently over his skin while the over hand took the new information and began to place it on the canvas.

He liked Lovino's face. It was soft and it made him smile when he thought about the fact that Lovino tried to pass off as someone who looked completely different. Right now, he could capture every detail about him and he could feel someone that he cared about.

Antonio was amazed for reasons he had yet to comprehend. Even though he had absorbed almost every detail of where his hand currently was, he did not move it for he was joyous in simply knowing. The fact that he knew that Lovino was here and that they could move past the negativity made his heart swell. With each second that he continued to take in who he was, Antonio felt his heart beat fast. He wanted to just touch Lovino's face all day, even when he wasn't painting. While his mind was everywhere, his face was serious still. There was not a single change in his facial expression. Therefore, Lovino would not be able to see the way he was truly acting.

He seemed focused and while he hummed and spoke to Lovino, it was clear he was much more serious and dedicated to what he was doing at the moment. Lovino found it fascinating. Yet, not as fascinating as the feeling of Antonio's hand on his face.

Truth be told, Lovino had never allowed anyone to touch him, even if it was a hug unless it was family (he often still was reluctant). Alfred had been an exception, but they had been dating so it made sense. Alfred's touch had been much different than Antonio's current one. Alfred was more a quick touch that lit small fires everywhere while Antonio's slowly burned and took over every part of him piece by piece. At the thought of his late-boyfriend, he went a bit out of it. His focus changed from the delicate yet callused hands that were taking in every detail about him to the blonde who loved fast-food.

Kisses lingered on his lips and the taste of milkshakes ran through his mind again. It was strange to think that even now he still thought about Alfred at weird times. Reminders of dates to the beach, kisses to glass cuts, and delicate whispers from someone who was loud in everything that he did.

It hurt Lovino and he felt guilty thinking about Alfred while Antonio was painting him. He started to shake a bit, memories flooding too quickly for him. Tears that fell with a phone after receiving results that he wished Alfred had not gotten. Screams and prayers to God. Sweet milkshake kisses that slowly turned to salt and soon ice. A bright smile, blue eyes, laughter that faded. Energetic Alfred slowly losing that energy. Sky blue eyes that turned to a stormy blue and then grey. Sweet milkshake lips that were welcoming once slipping to ice cold ones. A laughter that went from the best thing in his life to tears that fell and one last plea to God for survival.

And a beautiful suit that he once adored seeing that turned into a cold reminder that he was gone. A beautiful suit tailored and matched with those sky blue eyes that went down with him.

Lovino didn't even realize he was crying. He didn't realize that Antonio stopped painting and held him close. He didn't even realize when he wrapped his own arms around Antonio and clung to him as if his life depended on it. He felt silly. One little thought was all that it took and he was sobbing just as badly as he had sobbed the day he had gotten the news.

He expected Antonio to try and pry at him. He expected him to ask a million questions and make the tears pour down faster as more memories poured out.

But he didn't.

Antonio didn't do anything. He held Lovino in his arms and hummed softly—every few moments he would speak and tell Lovino it was okay and to cry it all out. He didn't get it; why did Antonio do this? How could he do this? How could he just hug someone, not ask what was wrong, and still manage to make the sorrowful weight slowly lift up?

He didn't know, but at the moment, he was thankful for Antonio. He wanted him in his life. As much as he didn't agree with him in certain things, he needed him. He clung to Antonio, tears, and sniffs still coming. After a while, he managed to calm down which meant Antonio was finally speaking again.

He still didn't ask.

Antonio wiped Lovino's tears and pushed his hair back, "Let's take a break. Come on, we'll eat."

Normally, Lovino would have protested, but after that much crying, he did need some food.

Oh, how he felt pathetic. Here Antonio was, caring about him and painting him—yet, all that Lovino could do was cry about someone who wasn't even alive anymore. The worst part that it was when he was with Antonio and it just made him feel like a pathetic, weak, needy friend with no control over his emotions.

He stood up and looked at whatever progress Antonio could have made before he decided to break down in tears. To his surprise, it was a lot, and Lovino looked at it in amazement. It was quite texturized, but that didn't change the detail in it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by clacking on something and then the sound of paper tearing. He looked over to where Antonio was and saw him pinning the paper to the painting. Was it a note? He didn't know. He didn't ask.

Antonio did know however, he was simply writing himself a nice note that reminded him of what he was doing and where he was currently in progress as well as the color mixture that he was using for the outline of Lovino's face. Of course, how could Lovino know that? He had typed the note out in braille.

He thanked God for those magnificent machines that made his life a little easier when he was in a lecture or needed to write something down. As soon as he had pinned it down and put his paintbrush in his water jar, he moved his hand in search for Lovino's arm. He grabbed onto it loosely and stood up.

"Come on, we should get downstairs then. Francis and Gilbert will be here in a couple hours and you don't seem to like them very much," he gave a light laugh as he walked with Lovino. his free hand was searching around him to make sure that he didn't bump into things. As well as he knew his home, his art room was unpredictable with how much messier it was compared to the rest of the house.

He didn't hear Lovino speak, so he didn't say anything. While curious about what made Lovino cry so suddenly, he did not ask. As much as he was concerned, he wanted his friend to feel comfortable around him rather than feeling invaded.

Once they were downstairs was when Lovino spoke. His voice was quiet, "I'm sorry about that. It was stupid—"

Antonio shook his head, his lips pulling tighter and thinner, "No. In the time I have known you Lovino, you have not had a break down like that, not over silly things or small things like you say. It's okay to cry, you know. Everyone needs to once in awhile. And whatever is going on in your head is obviously not stupid if it is affecting you like this."

Lovino's head fell onto Antonio's shoulder and he sighed, "It really is stupid. I've been nothing but an emotional wreck this week. Why do you even bother trying to be my friend when all I do is overreact and let my emotions spike over stupid things?"

Antonio wrapped his arm around Lovino again and hugged him close, "I still don't think it's stupid. Do you want to talk about it?"

Lovino grumbled lightly and buried his face in Antonio's shoulder, "It's just—when you started touching my face while painting, it reminded me of the only other person I let touch my face like that."

Antonio pursed his lips and nodded. So that's what it was. It certainly wasn't stupid. He felt a bit bad knowing this information now. Was he talking about an old girlfriend? It sent a slight pang to his heart and he didn't know why, "I don't have to paint you if you don't want, Lovino."

Shaking his head, he sighed, "No, I'm fine. I just—I need to let him go. He's somewhere better and I haven't done a good job accepting that. I'm working on it."

Antonio's heart swelled for a moment at the mention of 'him'. Did it make him a bad person for getting excited about the past person being a him while Lovino was confessing his pain? It sure made him feel like one. he needed to get back into focus.

"It's alright. Things like that are hard. If you ever need a break, just tell me, okay? Come, let's get you something to eat," he smiled warmly and let go of Lovino so that he could lead him to the dining room, "And for the record, I love being your friend because you treat me like a human. Even today, you were willing to give me another chance after I messed up not because I'm blind and not out of pity, but because you thought I deserved a second chance. You're great; I don't know how you can't see it."

Lovino went silent and it would have concerned Antonio if he wasn't already aware what words as simple as those did to Lovino.

"You are the cheesiest idiot I have ever met. Just serve the food already," Lovino snapped. Antonio knew he didn't mean harm. That's how Lovino was. He had grown able to detect when he was actually irritated or angry and now wasn't one of those times.

He was right; Lovino meant to harm. He was just flustered. All of his life he was used to getting insults rather than complements. The fact that Antonio cared and tried to bring him comfort after making assumptions without talking to him and breaking out in tears made him happier than anyone could ever possibly comprehend. He didn't pry at him—he didn't even ask about what had made him angry the first time. Lovino didn't feel worthy of such a friendship.

It almost made him regret the gift he was keeping in his bag.

Antonio managed to snap Lovino out of his thoughts once he placed the somehow still warm food on plates. The aroma already made him drool. He sat down and watched as Antonio felt around for his own spot, "Please tell me I didn't spill. Also, please don't Gordon Ramsey my cooking."

Lovino's lips curved into a small smile and he let out an amused snort before shaking his head, "No, you didn't spill. However, we will have to see about your cooking. I won't allow nasty food to go past my lips."

Lovino took a bite and sat there amazed for a moment. Whatever he was eating was spicy but also creamy. The texture was nice and oh did those spices mix well together, "I take it back. I take it all back. I praise you, you idiotic, dino-nugget eating, cheesy son of a bitch. This is good. Remind me again why you're surviving off of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets?"

Antonio chuckled softly and took a bite of his food, "I'm glad it appeals to your refined taste. Also, we're both in school. I doubt money is raining down on our lives."

Lovino raised a brow in confusion. He was living in a place like this and was honestly trying to convince him that he was a broke college student as well?

"This house is an old house. If it weren't for the fact that my entire family seemed to have owned this place, I would be in an apartment like yours."

"That's one way to call me a bum."

Antonio choked on his food and stood up to try and apologize only to spill his water. Lovino laughed at him, of course. As he was trying to explain that he was joking, Antonio took too big of a step and hit his head on the plant dangling from the ceiling.

Eating was hardly done at all actually. Lovino and Antonio ended up on the couch, laughing while Antonio sipped a little wine. Although, Lovino didn't eat much because while the food was delicious and he had wanted to eat more, the familiar feeling of nausea hit him and he didn't eat in fear of having to excuse himself and have Antonio worry about him. While Lovino felt the uncomfortable jitters returning as he drank, he let Antonio have the little bit that he was currently drinking.

' _It's fine, it's fine. It's just a small drink'_

His thoughts disappeared when Antonio started singing softly. Lovino turned and smiled as he saw the wine glass placed down on the coffee table while Antonio sang softly and beamed. There was a relaxed look on his face.

"It is strange that I talk to myself? Is it weird when I hear someone else? What do I do? There's no more you," his voice filled the room and Lovino lay back to listen to it. Antonio's voice was deep, soothing, smooth, and alluring. Lovino could listen to it all day. His singing was such a nice sound and it made him feel like he was a kid listening to his mother sing to him.

He didn't think about bad memories that came after that, he simply smiled and listened to Antonio. It didn't matter when Antonio stopped singing because Lovino felt soothed. He looked at the time and shook the painter slightly, "As much as I would like to be lazy and sit here, I think we have a painting to finish."

Antonio frowned slightly and sat up, "Are you sure?"

As much as he would love to continue to paint Lovino, he didn't want to do anything to make him uncomfortable. He really cared about how he felt and would never push the boundaries that were set.

Lovino reached and gently nudged Antonio, "Yeah, I'm sure. Come on, dork. That painting won't finish itself. It's not a big deal."

Antonio bit the inside of his cheek. While he was glad that Lovino wanted to continue, he didn't want him brushing off things like that as nothing important when it was clear that whatever he was thinking about was disturbing him. He nodded and stood up, reaching for Lovino's hand. He made a mental note to make sure to pay extra close attention so that if Lovino seemed to get uncomfortable or on the verge of breaking down, he could stop and suggest they do something else for the remaining time.

Upon grabbing Lovino's hand, his friend flushed slightly as he was used to being grabbed by the arm and not such a direct thing as this. It was a bit much, wasn't it?

It didn't seem to matter to Antonio as he made his way back to the room where they had been hand-in-hand. Truth be told, he was growing more and more comfortable around Lovino the more they were around one another—arguments were obviously an exception. In his mind, he was acting no different around Lovino than usual. It seemed that for all of his skills with analyzing people and picking up on certain situations quickly, he did not do the same for himself—thus, he failed to distinguish his behavior as being anything strange.

Lovino—he chose not to see it. He was clearly capable of being able to understand that Antonio was beginning to desire him as more than a friend, but he failed to allow himself to do so.

In the end, it seemed that the two were blind in a friendship that had its difficulties which arose the question of if Lovino ignored things in fear of getting too close and being damaged or if Antonio was afraid to allow himself to love. Only God knew.

Antonio was humming softly as he set everything up as it had been before, "I'll probably only paint you for an hour more. I'm sure we both have things we need to do."

"Mhm. Well, I told you my schedule, so don't start planning rap when I'm obviously busy."

"Yes! I'll send you a message later with times we can meet up and such. Thank you for still agreeing to do this," he gave a shy smile as he picked up his paintbrush and reached for Lovino's face so that he could carry on. However, he hesitated and bit his lip which confused Lovino.

Before he could ask what was going on in Antonio's mind, he was interrupted, "Hey, today was actually pretty fun. Maybe, Thursday we could do something? Besides painting. This isn't for school, so I have all of the time for that—but maybe we could go to the cultural festival and just kinda hang out," he muttered the last bits nervously.

Lovino looked at him curiously, an eyebrow raised. He seemed a bit bashful. Although, he found it rather endearing because it meant he made Antonio nervous for whatever the reason be. It honestly gave him a bit of an ego boost. He nodded, his head still in Antonio's hand, "Yeah, that sounds nice. We can head out after I finish my stuff then. Just don't do anything stupid there or I'll shove you into the river."

At this, he laughed and nodded, "There go most of my plans then," he joked before giving a playful grin, "I would never do anything stupid to embarrass my lovely muse~"

Lovino chuckled and muttered something along the lines of 'dumbass' under his breath before Antonio started his soft music and began to paint again. This time, Lovino closed his eyes and let things happen. He didn't think about Alfred—he just listened to the music and Antonio's brush strokes.

Antonio on the other hand, he was having trouble focusing. While he had memorized each part of Lovino's jaw and chin, he found himself unable to paint. He was much too mesmerized by the person that he was painting. He wanted to run his hands along every turn and every curve of Lovino's face for no reason besides simply being able to.

Assuming that Lovino thought he was deep in thought about his next stroke, Antonio just held Lovino's face. For the first time in years, he felt sorrow about being blind. Not mild sadness that stung bitterly and left after a bit—sorrow that broke his heart and made his mind fall grey. If he could only see one person in the entire world, he thought, it would be Lovino. Memorizing features and putting them together only did so much.

' _This face—I will paint it a thousand times. Then I will draw it a thousand times more.'_

He did paint, but it was very slow. Part of that reason being so that he would have an actual excuse for Lovino to come over more often.

Of course, eventually, Lovino had to leave. Antonio typed out another note, putting it on his canvas while also making sure that each pin was in place so that he could find his place again.

Taking Lovino's hand once again, he walked him downstairs and to the door after making sure that he had not forgotten anything. He was still beaming like the ray of light that he was, "I look forward to Thursday."

Lovino snorted, "You sound dramatic when you say it like that. Whatever, I'll see you Thursday," he let go of Antonio's hand and turned to leave before letting out a small gasp, "Wait! I almost forgot. I got you something from the store. Thought that you could at least look decent in your hobo wardrobe."

He placed a bag in Antonio's hands and tried to conceal the smirk on his face. The shirt was actually a petty revenge shirt. As much as he was glad they were getting back to being good friends, he was petty and would not forgive entirely without the other person looking a little dumb for a bit.

Antonio actually was surprised and stood frozen for a moment. He was in a moment of disbelief. It vanished quickly and was replaced with a bright smile. He embraced Lovino tightly and laughed in great joy, "Thank you so much!"

Lovino may or may not have felt a slight amount of guilt for a moment.

"It's whatever. You have no fashion sense so you obviously need some ugly shirt to go with that ugly closet," he teased, "I really have to get going too. Smell you later, stinky chef."

Antonio put a hand to his heart, "I am wounded, Lovino! Oh, woe! Betrayal," he cried out dramatically before smiling a small smile and heading back inside once he was sure that Lovino was at the gate. He shut the door and hugged the bag close, throwing himself to the couch and laying there for a few minutes while planning on wearing the shirt that secretly said "Art VanHOE" on the front in big letters. That would certainly turn out to be an interesting experience for the two.

He was grateful to still have Lovino around and he was happy that he had a friend that joked and teased him freely. He was thankful that Lovino told him things as they were rather than sugarcoating words that would not benefit either of them. He was thankful that someone didn't pity him and above all, Antonio was happy that he found someone that he wanted to paint day after day without stop.

Warmth grew in his heart and innocent Antonio with no idea for what he felt nor what the future held, was slowly throwing himself into a bed of roses; beauty that came with pain.

* * *

_**Haha! I am not dead yet! Although, school is killing me, my readers. You would think my sophomore year would be less stressful...Anyway, I'm hoping to get an actual schedule on these updates. Alright, a couple of things I want to state that are mentioned with Antonio's painting style.** _

_**I based how he works off of a family friend of mine who did the same. He would place nine pins on the canvas to divide things easily (he could go "ah yes, I was painting on 3,2" and work from there. Sometimes extra pins were added to mark the exact spot. The braille typewriter was also a grand salvation to him! I thought that this would be an interesting thing to add in.** _

_**Also, a warning. Things are going to get a bit more touchy after this chapter. Check the warnings I put in the description. I really don't want someone to feel uncomfortable with what is going to happen soon. I mean it when I say things are getting more touchy. We are entering the stage where you guys realize that this story is dealing with a lot of things that I feel need to be addressed.** _

_**That is all, leave a nice (or harsh) review, share the story, etc! I shall see you guys in the next update!** _

_**~ Lluvia Di'Noche** _


	7. Viola

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy chapter before hell begins. Leave a review, subscribe, and leave kudos!

**_~Viola~_ **

* * *

_"The best love is the kind that awakens the soul; that makes us reach for more, that plants the fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds. That's what I hope to give you forever."_

**_— The Notebook_ **

* * *

Thursday could not have taken longer to drag along. Antonio found himself listening to the ticks of his watch in anticipation and desire for the hours and nights to pass by faster. Yet, time only seemed to turn on him rather than assist him. His stomach bubbled with a welcoming feeling that he gladly welcomed despite having a limited understanding of it.

In fact, Antonio didn't really understand many of the things that raced through his mind. He couldn't quite pin why he buried his face in his pillows and his blankets in hopes of catching the fleeting scent of chocolate and spice which he had grown fond of.

He did not know what led him to decide to shake things up and rather than focussing on the realism that he strived to achieve, to attempt abstraction and randoms tests of attempting to come up with an idea from sentences and descriptions he heard from the radio. Nor did he understand how the appeal of Luciano Pavarotti, Domenico Modugno, and Sergio Bruni had piqued him so suddenly.

Or rather, Antonio did not want to assume the obvious and chose to ignore it instead. He would have had to have been a fool to not realize that there was reasoning behind his habit of texting Lovino "good morning" when he arose in the morning or the way that he counted the hours while he was working, listening to the faint ticks of his watch, in hopes that time would speed and that Lovino would arrive ready to leave.

He knew what he was feeling; and if he didn't, then he had a good idea. He didn't attempt to hide it from Gilbert and Francis. Granted, Gilbert and Francis required little to know what was going on in Antonio's mind. Still, Antonio was content. While he knew that this was most likely nothing but a small crush that would light up and burn just as rapidly as it had started, he felt great joy in being able to experience something that he had never felt before.

The feeling of thinking about someone and wanting to embrace them weaved around him and the image of butterfly kisses branded on the side of his brain. He found it intriguing for he was attempting to decipher each little though. He felt like he was back in junior high or high school and finally able to understand the strange obsessions that his friends had over people over the years.

His obsession smelled like chocolate and spice.

When Thursday finally rolled around, Antonio's energy levels spiked through the roof and his head filled with thoughts about the day and the things that they would possibly do. Oh, the way that the world seemed all the warmer just because of one person.

Gilbert and Francis watched him with a curious eye as he paced the hall that morning—almost forgetting that they existed or knowing it and not quite sure of how to approach them about such a thing despite knowing well that his friends knew much more about flings and romance than he did.

Sapphire and ruby colored eyes carefully analyzed him. The way he ruffled his hair in slight frustration and how his eyes, that most expected to be faded and dull, filled with emotions such as the glitter of excitement and the storm of uncertainty. His soft laughter that only emphasized the fact that he was burning in confliction and anxiety. The thought of the possibility of another failure that would crush the joy that had been overflowing into his life.

As the hours passed and the time for Lovino arrived closer, Francis noted the way that Antonio anxiously opened up his phone every few moments to check if he had any notifications only to have the robotic voice of the phone tell him for what seemed like the forty-fifth time, that he, in fact, had no messages. When he did get a message, he would respond quickly. However, Lovino didn't seem to respond very quickly, so the messages came with great delays.

Finally, the message that Francis and Gilbert had been waiting for as they sat and did their work on his couch came.

_'I'm on my way. I should be there in fifteen minutes. See you, dork.'_

The way Antonio jumped, he looked ready to take action. Francis' lips curved into a grin as did Gilbert's. Francis pushed his reading glasses up and closed his laptop, "Antonio, my friend, you are quite attracted to the guy. Are you sure you will manage all alone?"

Antonio bit his lip, his head tilting down and hair falling gently on his face, "I hope so. I don't want to do anything stupid and possibly scare him off! He's a really cool friend who I admire and even if this is some dumb crush that goes away in a week or so, I'm really happy. I feel normal!"

Gilbert raised his brow and put down the book he was holding, a slight chuckle escaping past his lips, "Toni, you shouldn't worry about that. You're you and that's what makes you awesome! I can't imagine you being any different."

Antonio sighed and gave a light, forced laugh, "I know I know, pero—what if I could see? It makes me wonder. Would I be a better friend? Would I be a better painter? I don't-"

"Toni. You wouldn't be into painting if it hadn't happened and you know it. I know it sucks balls what happened, but you are an amazing guy who has done some crazy things to get where he is and I refuse to see you act depressed about something that made you into the rad artist you are now! Now get your shoes on and go out there and have fun you amazing art Vanhoe."

Antonio snorted a bit at the joke, choking on the air in the process. His laughter filled the room, a bubbly addition, "That's—that's a new way to describe me. Normally you call me a slut bucket." His laughter continued as he reached lazily to the side to grab his wallet which he did not feel in his pocket. Once he stuffed it in his pocket absentmindedly, he stood up, "But still. I'm allowed to wonder."

Gilbert clicked his tongue and gave his head a small sway to each side, "Yeah, but I don't want you bringing yourself down. You're too cool for that."

His smile flickered and he bit his lip. Hugging himself tightly, Antonio took deep breaths and attempted to relax his nerves that wildly raced about and churned his stomach cruelly. He was overthinking and drowning himself once again. He didn't want to do that; especially not today. Not when he was finally going to spend time with a friend and when he was understanding that he was capable of feeling and doing things everyone else did. This was a gift that he wanted to clutch between his fingers and lay in just to feel the silky pleasure that came with it. Never before had he felt something so strong and Antonio wanted to chase it to its farthest reaches in hopes of discovering a world that he might have been missing and a life that he could take on that was beyond the borders of the area he lived in.

As soon as he was calmed and less focused on the 'what if's that he had burdened his mind with, he took a deep breath, asked his friends to wish him luck, and walked out of his home to fresh smell of autumn that chilled him for a moment before he stepped down onto the leaf-covered path and walked to his gate to wait for Lovino.

He waited for a bit, fiddling with his white cane that was hooked to his belt loop for a bit before a sudden aroma caught him off guard. He had been expecting the sweet smell of chocolate and spice that kissed his senses lovingly, but teasingly. However, now he was getting a sudden hit of a more alluring fragrance that played with his mind. It was certainly a very appealing one as it captured his attention and he spent a few moments standing there attempting to decipher it and who could possibly wear something like that. The welcoming trail of citrus, Mediterranean herbs and spices danced when they reached him and hit him with a wave of nostalgia.

Of course, he had a fairly good guess of who wore such an entrancing and intoxicating perfume. He gave a toothy grin, his head falling to the side a bit, "That's a new smell. Did you get all prettied up for me?"

Lovino scoffed, attempting to play it off as some stupid comment despite the fact that he had indeed put a little extra effort in his appearance that he already took a lot of pride in even if Antonio couldn't see him, "Sure, dork. You're so special I spent three hours thinking 'I need to be pretty, hmmm' and then made myself look like a god."

Antonio chuckled and nudged Lovino playfully, "Ah, I always knew you adored me!"

Lovino didn't bother to attempt to argue with him, "Come on, let's get moving or I'm ditching you for some cannoli."

There was no argument after that. Antonio walked the rest of the way with Lovino, holding onto his arm loosely, but enough that it caused Lovino's breath to hitch for a moment. Such a gentle and gesture that he was thinking deeper than it was most likely meant to be taken.

Hooking his arm around Lovino, Antonio tugged him gently so that they could leave. His face was filled with light and excitement that he had never known. Yet, he welcomed it—for it eliminated the cold tugging that tormented him for years.

In fact, so excited about finally getting a chance at friendship and living life as a normal person, Antonio went on to talk to Lovino, asking him the silliest of questions such as his favorite color, his favorite smell, and what he would take with him if he were stranded on an island.

And as immature and childish as it may have seemed to anyone watching, to him it meant the world. All the years of maturing much too quickly and forcing himself to fit the image of perfection melted away and the years of missed adolescent opportunities and growing up flowed in. Yes, it turned his mind to a mess of maturity and immaturity, but it also brought him great joy.

The experiences he never had—and one person was walking him through it all even if his friends were far off and his emotions scattered.

"We have to get churros."

"Ugh, but the churros in these places are never good!"

"Churroist."

"Not even a word…"

"Well, now it is, you churroist."

"Oh my gosh, Antonio.  _Stop_ ," Lovino groaned in irritation as he listened to Antonio, "I thought you were smart, turtle dork."

Antonio chuckled, shrugging as he pulled himself closer to Lovino just by the slightest to eliminate the distance in between them, "I am, but maybe you're just not seeing it,"

"Sure, and I am secretly Machiavelli," he retorted in a playful yet mocking tone.

Antonio took none of it to heart. He knew how his friend was and things like this remained just that— _things_.

Thus, he carried their conversation on. Hands holding Lovino's arm, smiles causing the dark world he had seen since he was a kid to light up with bright reds that carried his heart with them.

Lovino began to talk a bit more as well, barriers crumbling and in their place a warm embrace that caused him to act a little more like his normal self, "When we get there, we are going to play meaningless carnival games because I refuse to go to something like this and not waste money I don't have any way."

A small chuckle escaped Antonio and he shook his head, "You have such a negative sense of humor—I like that."

Sweet chuckles danced to Lovino's ears and Antonio grinned wider when he heard the silent name call under Lovino's breath. His heart beat faster and he practically leaped on the balls of his feet as he nudged his friend joyously and paid the fee to go and enjoy the festival.

Joy filled him so, leaving the entirety of the world behind and his negativities, for the briefest of moments, did not cover his eyes. Instead, it was just his eyelids.

Clearly, things were not perfect. He was still very much blind, he was still very much struggling, but it didn't matter. For once, he wasn't worried, but nor did he think that everything in the world would stop just because he found joy. No, but everything seemed less awful and the world was as it was. It was messy like he was, but it carried some light. Suddenly, all of those things that he had held against his eyes melted away. In the end, the only thing covering his eyes were his eyelids and nothing except for damaged parts became the reason for why he was blind.

The rest was as it was.

"Come on then. Let's go play some carnival games," he beamed, eyes twinkling with light behind a pair of dark sunglasses in a way that for the faintest of a second—Lovino almost forgot that Antonio was blind.

Tugging his friend along, he listened to the different cheery, loud tunes that became difficult to differentiate, but were still distinctly different. His cane tapped against the ground almost hesitantly despite his seemingly relaxed disposition. He blended in well with the popcorn spritzed air and the sounds of laughing people who turned for a few moments in surprise to see the blind man leading and not the one who needed to be led.

It wasn't like Antonio could see it though, so he still felt the twist and turns of an uncomfortable stomach. His mind still wandered and the anxiety still buzzed through him. The only difference between before and the moment now was the fact that the weight of it seemed to slide off just enough to allow him to breathe.

And when his hands slid up his sleeve and scratched at his arm, Lovino reached over and removed his hand, asking him about painting and telling him to just choose a carnival game. The first time, it had made Antonio slightly uncomfortable as he believed he was going to ruin the day. But after a while, he found himself grateful for it because it eased his nerves.

It was a difficult thing. Sight was a sense that was difficult to adapt without—at least it was for him. His life and his passions all depended on that one little sense. Even now, he had to walk to the festival rather than drive because he wasn't able to. The line separating him from being overemotional and just giving up and falling into a state of loss of emotion seemed so thin.

He was balancing them and slight hits like people saying or doing the wrong thing sent him spiraling straight into insanity. Yet, he was relaxed right now and he did not worry.

"So what game are we playing?"

Antonio grinned wide and squeezed Lovino's arm gently, "Ring toss."

" _Ring toss?_ "

"Mhm," he nodded with confidence, "We'll play together. You will be my eyes and I will be the arms. Tell me where and I will toss."

Admittedly, the idea was the most idiotic thing that Antonio could have thought of. He could hardly manage to hit the target at all when he was throwing darts, so ring toss was quite the interesting choice. But this was Antonio; his ego was much to big to not try out the game and impress Lovino.

"If you say so. You have cash? All I brought was a card," he shrugged in curiosity of the results.

"Yeah, yeah. Just give me a second. How much is it?"

"Five for twenty rings."

Antonio nodded and reached into his pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he gave the money to Lovino to hand to the ring toss man as soon as they were next in line. The rings were placed firmly in his hands and he gripped his hand onto them tightly, dependently.

Stepping where he needed to be, he took a deep breath. Suddenly, the popcorn didn't smell as strong and the music wasn't as sweet. His mind collapsed for a moment and when he was back to Earth, Lovino was asking him if he was okay and he could feel the stares burning into the back of his head.

"Where do I throw, my eyes?" His voice was rather playful—joking even though he bore a stoic expression on his face.

It became clear to him that Lovino probably didn't know what to do and if he did know what to do, he didn't know how to describe it for Antonio. The silence told him everything and it was okay. This was all very new and probably a large hit to the face for Lovino to adjust to the way Antonio's life went.

"Throw at a forty-five-degree angle upwards about two inches to the left," his voice finally broke through the deadly silence.

Antonio did as he was told and moved his arm roughly two inches and thought about how to get the angle correctly. With a simple nod, he tossed the ring. It missed, but not by much. In fact, it nearly hooked on.

"Try again, but flick your wrist just a little more."

Antonio did as he was told, his heart beating fast in anxiety. The ring hooked on and Lovino let out what sounded like a sound of shock. It really was just a loud squeak mixed with a croak.

"Huh. Nice one! Alright. Next one is just five degrees above that one but about seven inches to the right," Lovino said as his face filled with concentration and he leaned close to Antonio absentmindedly.

Antonio nodded, smiling a bit more when he caught a whiff of Lovino's cologne. He knew that Lovino was closer to him and it sent a rush of blood to his face. He threw the next ring, a rush of pride filling him when Lovino cheered. His soul flew and his heart attempted to break through the barriers of his body out to embrace the person cheering.

The way his voice melted sweetly. Antonio could practically see Lovino and it made every piece of joy he struggled to express well enough overflow past the gates of his mind and into the crisp autumn air.

"Alright, turtle dork, next one," Lovino placed the ring in his hands and if the way his fingertips brushed against his palm wasn't enough to make Antonio's mind shut down, Lovino's hand wrapped around his arm. Delicate fingers that clung and pressed gently into a muscular arm and the touch shut Antonio down completely.

His mind cried out, begging him to pull away from the friendship and to end the misery he would surely place himself into. Oh, how the deepest and most frightened parts of him attempted to pull his emotions back in terror of the outcome. Yet, it was much too late and Antonio had already taken the leap into the mess his friend had warned him of years before.

"Move two inches downward and toss!"

Antonio did so, met with another cheer that send a welcoming feeling in his stomach. After the last one was tossed, Lovino removed his hand but the burning feeling of where his hand had been remained and it whispered sweetly to Antonio. Curving up and gently kissing his heart, it left him stunned for the briefest of moments before vanishing into the air with no trace but the slight tingling of where he had been.

"We have a  _winnnerrr!"_  the game operator grinned and looked at Lovino as if to say 'you pick since he can't see'. Antonio was still much too absorbed in the tingling feeling to notice the brief break in voices.

"The turtle please."

"Purple, blue, green, or red?"

This was where Antonio stepped in, finally hearing the conversation going on and recognizing that Lovino froze in his spot. It wasn't a first, nor would it be a last, "Red. It's my favorite color."

It took a moment of shuffling, but the large stuffed turtle was eventually pushed into his arms. Antonio embraced it close, a smile on his face as he walked off with Lovino in attempts to ignore the fact that he could sense the confusion from a blind man having a favorite color. His arms tingled and he grew tempted to sneak one hand up to scratch lightly. After all, it wasn't a big deal. It was only his arms and it would only be a little. However, the moment his hand grazed his sweater—another one gently pushed it away from his sleeve.

His focus was drawn away by the action and he smiled faintly, his anxiety melting down. Though his hand did trail back to his sleeve and rubbed lightly along the fabric out of bad habit. Often times, Antonio question his capability to manage life on his own. It always seemed like someone was pulling his hands away or sitting with him in attempts to relax his mind.

He walked with Lovino, the large toy was stuffed under his shoulder, threatening to fall down. Lovino swayed and hummed softly as they walked. It was one of those moments where the silence was rather welcoming despite not existing at all. It soothed him, allowing him to focus on the slight increase in his heart rate and the clammy hand that held the turtle while the other twitched with every tap his white cane made to the ground.

Each passing moment filled him with joy and the thought of his itchy arm soon disappeared. He wasn't tugging at the sleeves of his jacket in weak attempts to cover the scratch marks and nail indents. He was enjoying himself more than he had in a long time. Games were played, music listened to, and Antonio kept his stuffed turtle close in joy.

"I love red because my soul is red."

"I don't speak pretentious artist. And—you, um. Well-"

Antonio's laugh bubbled softly in the air, though a pang of nervousness killed it slowly before it faded into the music and sweet carnival aroma, "I wasn't always blind, you know. A lot of people think that, but I could see color too once. Red has always been my favorite. It's passionate and loving! It is also strong and determined! Red is everything I want to be."

"Nerd," Lovino teased in an airy voice, "I'd say yellow for you. But then again, you're not all yellow. Maybe orange? I dunno. You're a weirdo like that."

A smile cracked the surface of his face and he walked side by side with this amazing, Italian, culinary student. Somehow he knew it already, but a part of him rejected the thought of it. But without a doubt, there was something about the time he had taken to in spending with Lovino that left him with a tingly bubbling in his stomach and a sweet song in his mind.

"Orange? That's a new one. I've never been described that way before."

He chuckled and kept walking with him, his hand grazing Lovino's for a fleeting second. Somehow it felt like an eternity.

"Well now you have," he suddenly came to a stop, "Wow, Toni! Feel these," his voice filled with excitement and he tugged the man over to a nearby booth. It was surprising. He never heard him sound so—so joyous. He wanted to hear it more. He liked the way he sounded in that moment; joyous, excited, and free. The tone was striking in an endearing way. It was new and it sent a million flames into his heart. They did not burn him though. Rather, they embraced him. Tilting his head in his general direction, he felt a rougher tug that pulled him farther.

He was rather confused and not sure to what Lovino was referring to. He was going to point it out when something was placed in his hands. He furrowed his brows, running his fingers along it and it caught his attention. It was a wood carving—and from what he could tell, it was a detailed one.

"It's gorgeous," his voice filled with wonder and he ran his fingers over it longer. He could count the number of times he was truly able to admire art on one hand. This was a gift from heaven to him.

"Hell yeah, it is," Lovino commented, amazed by the detail.

Both stood there enchanted by something that they were both able to enjoy in equal but different ways. Lovino's eyes amazed by the tones that were used. Wine colors. They made the image in the wood so beautiful. That was what he cared about; those gorgeous wine colors sank into his mind. They contrasted with the bright bold rouges and greens and dark blacks and browns of the other pieces.

Antonio, on the other hand, admired the curves and detail that went into the carving. Sharp and simple cuts and they worked so well together that he could almost see the image in his mind. It was gorgeous. The patterns all around suggested that it was Eastern European.

"How much?"

Impulsive? Perhaps. But he didn't care much at all. He was rather overjoyed and despite the price costing him as much as a typical dinner out, he bought two. One for Lovino and one for himself. He had a small message carved in the back of Lovino's. Tucking the wooden pieces away, he continued to walk with him. He'd give him the carving at the end of the night.

"And why did you buy two? You're broke,  _dork_ ," Lovino commented, emphasizing the silly name.

Antonio smiled and kept walking with him, listening to the music, "Because they are beautiful!"

Much like Lovino appeared in Antonio's world.

Lovino shook his head, confused. With a slightly amused scoff, he continued to walk with him, "We're college students. We're so poor that McDonald's is a delicacy."

"I know," his voice was airy, "But I was always a sucker for lovely things."

Lovino shrugged, "Alright. Whatever you want, dork. I'm not the dummy here."

That was something that seemed to send shivers down his spine amusingly enough. There was just something so fascinating about a person who appeared to be the farthest thing from pure using such  _chaste_ words. It was taunting to him—alluring even. Lovino, despite cursing plenty, seemed to use these words more and even other dumb insults a child would make up like 'butt muffin' which were strange, but amusing.

There wasn't much that either really wanted to do. It didn't take long for their stomachs to fill with funnel cakes, cannoli, coconut water, and anything and everything that could be found. They had played some games and listened to music. Overall, it was satisfying and a wonderful way to end the day.

But neither wanted it to end. Lovino kept holding onto Antonio's arm despite knowing well that he did not need to. Antonio let him even if it made his entire body numb to depend on somebody else as much as he was currently.

Antonio wanted to stay where he was and forget everything that he had ever known in life. He wanted to sit on the small bench and talk about everything. He wanted the fall air to freeze them until he couldn't move his fingers and Lovino was shivering just so that they could walk to his house, cheesy jokes being told, and warm up on the couch while old music played. He wanted so many things and he hated it because it slowly caused him to realize what was going on and it terrified him.

He didn't feel right about it. Indeed, he adored Lovino and wanted to be around him, but he was so afraid. He couldn't do it. Hell, as far as he knew, Lovino was straight. Antonio panicked because this wasn't how he wanted to figure out who he was attracted to. Why couldn't it have occurred in high school when he was a bit more confident? Why couldn't he be attracted to girls so that this would go by simpler? So many tormenting thoughts began to abuse his mind all at once and he was cowering from his demons.

His posture stiffened and suddenly the once gentle touch that kisses the deepest parts of his mind burned him like acid.

"Hey, you okay there, nerd," Lovino's soft voice cut through the tormenting voices.

He sighed and relaxed, the soft music in the background finally coming to his attention and drawing him away from terror and anxiety, "Y-yeah. I just-just needed a moment to collect myself. Thinking about things, I guess."

His arm became bare once more as Lovino sat up. He let out a soft sigh that tickled Antonio's heart. His cologne slowly wrapped around Antonio as well, rendering him a weak man, "If you say so. But I call bull."

His tone was very tantalizing. It floated delicately to his ears and soaked into his skin. He smiled gently at him because of it.

The music still played softly. It was late by now for sure. The nippy air grew dryer and more Siberian as the minutes passed. The heavy footsteps calmed signaling that people were leaving to go home and rest with their loved ones. But for Antonio, it meant a wonderful and perfect day coming to an end and he didn't want it to vanish. Not yet.

"There's a tent around here where people dance, would you like to go there before we leave?"

Fingertips wrapped around a sturdy arm like a gossamery feather floating down gently in the winter air to kiss the snowy surface of the ground.

Gentle steps to the tent attempted to distract a fast-beating heart. He was soaring too high. He was reaching for the sun. How could he expect anything but pain from what he was pursuing? It was inevitable—it had to be.

But when the soft and adoring music from the tent reached his ears, he could have sworn he felt Lovino's hand warm up as it held his arm.

He recognized the song and suddenly all of his fears melted away. It rang softly and his entire body heated up in terror but also desire.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

_No, Antonio stop_

"Sure."

_Antonio stop. This will only lead to pain._

His hand gently took one of Lovino's hands, the other landing on his hip. Sweet music played and an eternity could have passed and they would not have noticed. Hazel eyes flickered up to meet green eyes that would never know the look he bore on his face nor the way his olive skin tinted red at their slow movements.

The world could have withered around them and their dance would not have ended. It couldn't. It was impossible. Gentle turns and a white cane scattered to the side somewhere with a bag. Both of them forgot to care.

He was soaring. He didn't care if he hit the sun. He welcomed it. Let his wax wings melt—oh, he did not care. All of his concerns lay with the one in his arms and the way that he fit so beautifully in his arms as if God had intended for this very moment.

_Bésame, como si el mundo se acabara después_

_Kiss me—as if the world would end after._

Temptation.

He couldn't, he refused to.

But then the sweet warmth of him filled him and Antonio forgot all of his senses. He was flying and free unlike he had ever been before. It frightened him and did fill him with concern, but it was much too good of a feeling to neglect. He would embrace it.

His mind cried out in vain attempts to get him to reconsider, but he had already taken the leap. After years of standing and waiting for joy to hit him, he found behind the barriers he had set up for himself. And he was a mess, oh he was a mess. He was a binge drinker and he was a fool, but he loved him so much. He loved so much it was ridiculous.

He hardly knew him. It still hadn't been long enough to really love him, but he did. He loved the way that his laughter stuck to him and replayed as he drifted into a slumber. He loved that laugh that wasn't perfect—in fact, it was loud and anything but lovely. He loved hearing it because it meant he was happy and it meant that he had made him laugh. And he didn't care about his flaws because they were beautiful.

People had flaws. It didn't make them any less beautiful.

Antonio spun him, sending him out and then back in. His arms wrapped around that beautiful Italian in bold grip, but gentle touch. His eyes met Lovino's and saw nothing but everything. He could see his face and the way it warmed up as he held him. He saw the shy smile that he attempted to hide believing he looked weird with it on. He saw his gently curling hair that framed his face and brushed gingerly over his nose and those wonderful freckles that he painted into the deepest parts of his mind night after night.

He could see their slow steps as they swayed to sweet music, but most of all—he saw himself. Messy, crinkled, T-shirt and pants that hugged him in all of the right places.

He felt free. A joy that he had never known. Something that he could only ever dream of; something that he had only ever dreamt of. It was so perfect and pure.

As the music continued, the climax arriving and the music speed and volume rising, Antonio fell deeper in love.

_Besame sin razón, por que quiere el corazón._

He leaned in, his mind screaming and slamming against the walls of his skull. 'No' it demanded. 'Don't do it!' it cried. But he ignored it.

Lips grazed lips just barely and then pressed against each other, fear melting away. One mouth opened, locking perfectly with another. Suddenly, they were soaring.

Fire against the wind; they danced in harmony. Antonio kissed those lips which he could have only ever dreamt of coming anywhere near each evening as he attempted pathetically to convince himself otherwise.

An imprint was left in his mind. When his lips broke free, a warm gaze met him. Half-lidded hazel eyes filled with joy.

"I love you," he murmured, the words slipping past his lips like honey. He wanted him to know.

"Shut up and kiss me again," he was pulled down to meet those sugary sweet lips once again.

There was a small chuckle in between, but no argument. Antonio cupped either side of that face he held and painted. Swaying gently to the music, both forgot their pains and their pasts for just one moment. They were just making that moment last.

That's how they stayed; swaying carelessly to the music, arms around the other, forgetting everything they ever knew and all that had ever hurt them. A fire burning inside them both warmed their hearts and sparked their love.

If it were not for the fact that were being kicked out since it was already very late, chances are they would have stayed like that.

The walk home was just as sweet though. Lovino would glance up and look away with the shyest of smiles despite knowing he did not need to. Small jokes and Antonio laughing as he held his stuffed red turtle close to him. Nervous tucks of hair behind ears and the warmth of two people who were taking slow steps together. Light laughter and hesitant reaches for the other's hand.

And when they arrived at Antonio's house, there were the hesitant and clammy hand movements as he asked if Lovino would like to stay the night. There was a pause, hesitance. Uncertainty and conflict before a quiet 'yes' came out and two hands intertwined.

There was a sweet laugh as music was turned on and Antonio spun Lovino in his arms. Gentle kisses peppered to his skin and arms loosely wrapped around a neck, pulling up and another pair pulling in by the waist. Both stood there, content in everything that was. Laughter filled the room, both forgetting that two people were still in the house.

That's how they were found too; they were just hugging each other close as if afraid to let go. Blue and red watched them, a smile on each. Blue eyes filled with joy and red eyes with concern, but both disappeared leaving the two to enjoy their night and have all of the joy that they deserved.

Both ended up on the couch with a large blanket over them. And as Lovino fell asleep, Antonio felt a smile come to his face and joyous tears brim his eyes. He cried silently, covering his mouth as hot tears flooded down his cheeks.

He was loved.

He was actually loved and it amazed him. He was crying, not sure how to react. He was loved dearly by someone and he never wanted to let him go. And yes, he was so scared. He was so very scared, but at the moment, he was happier than any man could possibly be. Antonio cried, pushing his hair back as a smile broke on his lips and he sighed happily. If this was what love felt like, then he wanted it more than anything else.

When he fell asleep, his hand was still intertwined with Lovino's. A figure watched the couple for a moment from where he was on the stairs.

_'Tell me Antonio, will you ever allow yourself to fall in love?'_

**_"Yes Francis, if it is with Lovino—a million times yes."_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In the deepest parts of my heart, I searched for you. Yet, when I found you, it seems that the world began to crumble."  
> \- G. G


	8. Grigio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonio finds out what freedom means and where he stands with it.

**_~Grigio~_ **

* * *

 

_ “To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable” _

**_\- John Milton_ **

* * *

 

_ “What happened to your eye?” _

_ “I got into a dumb fight with Romeo. It’s nothing.” _

_ “I know you’re lying, man. I know that it’s not fights with your siblings. It’s not cool what is going on. Why won’t you let me help you guys? Help them?” _

_ “You can’t help those who don’t want to be helped. No matter how hard you try. They always end up the same.” _

_ “Then let me help you. Please. You’re everything to me, man.” _

_ “....I’m sorry.” _

* * *

 

How much did he adore him? He wasn’t sure.

He just knew that every time his fingertips grazed Lovino’s skin, Antonio saw the stars and the world for a fleeting moment more. It brought him more joy than he ever knew. This man—this man was all he would ever paint. Beautiful in every way, Antonio couldn’t help it.

Each embrace, he soaked in those sweet Mediterranean herbs mixing with sweet chocolate. He didn’t understand how he could always smell so wonderful. Each sweet caress and his senses went wild, exploding and burning—filling him with more than he ever knew that he was capable of having.

Intertwining their fingers, he beamed at the way that their hands fit like two puzzle pieces. His heart could only handle so much of his sweet joy that sparked and lit up every part of him with a flame.

Around Lovino, his world painted itself bright reds and yellows, lighting him up with life and a fire that he could not understand. Lovino’s voice was a paintbrush that filled his bleak world with life again. Gentle strokes, fast ones, soft and hard—they all made him feel warm and brought back the flittering memories of a blue sky and deep rouges that he adored and felt whenever he was around him. It didn’t matter what he did, for he was his Lovino.

A sky of red and orange—it glittered and shone like never before. Each gentle touch and laugh that he got from him tinted his skies into gorgeous hues of the sunset that kissed Antonio’s brain.

He could kiss those sugar sweet lips a dozen times and his heart would still swell with the same passion that he felt the first time that he did. He could caress his skin and hold him close for hours on end and his heart would still race as it did whenever he was near him.

Even now, as he held Lovino, he felt ready to take on the world. He had no fears and he was whole. Every time that he spoke to Lovino—he knew.

He knew that this man would never see the broken piece of him that everyone seemed to focus so much on.

He knew that this man would be the one who he would spend every day of his life kissing and adoring.

He knew that this man was his.

“Lovino. Time to wake up, amor,” he reached in search of his shoulder and shook it gently.

“No, I don’t have to do anything until later this afternoon, I’m sleeping,” he groaned, arms wound around Antonio.

Moving his hand up, he felt Lovino’s hair and ruffled it gently, “Mm, well I have class in an hour, so I have to get up.”

Another groan came from the small figure embracing him tightly. Flopping his head on Antonio’s chest, Lovino sighed, “Screw class. It’s only some money coming out of your pocket.”

Truth be told, Antonio would have willingly stayed. However, he could not do that at the moment. Shaking his head, he got up, Lovino groaning even louder as he did.

“You suck.”

He put his hands gently to Lovino’s cheeks and smiled, “Is that your way of saying you want me to fail my project? You know, the one of your beautiful face?”

This captured his attention and he shot up, letting go, standing up straight, and looking at Antonio with wide eyes, “You finished it? Wait! You’re presenting today? Get up then! Get ready and look presentable! You look like a trash can!  _ Eugh! _ ”

He burst into laughter and shook his head, “I look like a trash can? So loving of you.”

“Stop complaining, nerd. Come on so I can get you some proper clothes! As if I am going to allow you to go out looking like Shrek.”

Antonio stumbled a bit as Lovino pulled him by his wrists, more enthusiastic than Antonio had ever really noted him to be. Somehow, it painted pink into his skies making the world all the more beautiful.

* * *

 

_ “What on Earth could painting ever give you in life that you don’t already have?” _

_ “Sight.” _

* * *

 

He hated critiques with a burning passion. He was already very insecure about what he did and he really didn’t feel strong in what he did. Then there was the fact that he could never really critique others work. It was embarrassing to sit there and then expect something great to come from his if he could not understand what others said about him. His fingernails gently grazed his skin over and over as he sat in class.

He listened to everyone as they told the stories behind their paintings and then proceeded to get comments on what went well and if needed, anything that they could improve upon.

It was such a delicate and unimportant thing, but to him, it was a death sentence to walk up and watch everyone comment on everything wrong with his work. He wasn’t sure whether this was all artists or if it was simply him overreacting and panicking far too much. However, regardless of what it was, it the thought itself sent thousands of shivers up his spine and millions of pessimistic outcomes despite his normally rational mind being there to relax him.

Somehow, all of his senses withered away and left him vulnerable to everything and anything. That was the worst part.

“Antonio Fernandez, you’re up.”

His breath hitched, the world freezing in that moment. The silence pierced his ears and he clamped down on his arm, nails digging into soft flesh and molding it to his own desires.

“Antonio?”

Fingernails pried off, small red piercings adding to the many that littered his arm, “Ah yes. I’ll be right up.”

Feeling around for his covered painting, he gently pulled it to him, taking deep breaths. This would be fine. He had come dressed (courtesy of Lovino) nicely and his look radiated all of the confidence that he himself lacked from the rolled up rouge sleeves to his crisp pants. It gave him a bold and mature look despite the small and fearful form that he was inside.

No matter how many times he went up and got compliments, he couldn’t help but feel that they were sugarcoated. After all, who wanted to be the one to crush the blind man’s dreams? Yet, he desired the truth and was unsure if he was truly receiving it. What would sugarcoated lies do for him besides fill him with false hope and the illusion of improvement?

No matter how many times he got compliments, Antonio still was the small child he was ages ago; he was small, afraid, and terribly alone.

But he wasn’t.

Thoughts of Lovino fluttered to his mind and tickled his lips to a curve. As he walked up, gentle taps to the floor, sharp words filled his mind and brought him amusement and relief. How could he have forgotten the one he painted? The one who made him feel all the less lonely and all the freer?

How could he have forgotten his muse?

Placing his painting on the easel, Antonio pulled the cover from it and let the class gaze at it. Of course, there were soft murmurs and they all filled him with cruel anticipation for his judgment.

Inhale. Exhale.

He was ready.

Antonio could not see his painting, nor was he able to when he painted it, but he was skilled at organization so that he could work things out. Eyes stared up at his painting and the way the black and reds of the background scratched and seemed to hiss. The way burning chains wrapped around the eyes of one grey person as if holding him prisoner. Eyes landed on how that person held another, one of gold and hazel and the way the chains seemed to wither as soon as the golden light touched them. Most of all, eyes landed on the fact that the grey person smiled despite the chains burning into his eyes and the way that he cupped the face of the person of gold and hazel.

The class gave their ideas of what the story behind his painting was, a smile twitching as he listened to them all and the imaginative ideas that erupted from them. Anything from whimsical to Biblical. He patiently waited to explain the story behind his project.

When the class fell silent, his heart raced and pounded from his chest while his stomach threatened to fly upward.

“You asked me to paint a story. So—this is the story of a man. Life hasn’t been easy to him, but others did not understand that. He came from a good home and he had a good life. But one day, he lost the ability to find light in things. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but it did. One day, he couldn’t find the light. People around him left, even if they didn’t mean to; it just happened. He was lost. He wanted approval despite being held back. He wanted satisfaction. Then, when he expected it the least, he found the most amazing person instead. Someone who made him want to be better. Someone who he hurt, but wanted to fix. This person was beautiful and he didn’t think that anyone else could ever remove his chains and tint his skin gold the way this person did.”

Silence. The most agonizing of loudnesses.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I painted the story of a broken man searching for approval and finding the light instead.”

The silence wrapped through the room once again, filling his stomach with butterflies and his throat with dust that scorched him and removed his words.

_ ‘I have painted the story of me’ _

Had he put the painting backward? Had it not been as good as he thought it had been? Had he messed up somewhere and splotched or peeled the paint?

“It’s gorgeous. The symbolism is amazing and the colors only emphasize that even more.”

“The second guy is in a much lighter texture compared to the rest, did you use watercolors? I love the mixed media. It really adds a softer tone.”

“Your background is blended well. The only thing I’d say is maybe emphasize the first guy, I guess. The grey blends a lot with the black and red background and he’s a bit harder to notice. Other than that, it’s amazing and your contrast is amazing.”

“The rough texturization slowly moving to a much softer one is really pleasing to me and I love it.”

The words came in and suddenly, Antonio felt high. He didn’t get frustrated with himself at the critiques for once, accepting and keeping them in mind. His body relaxed and his hands moved to his sides rather than clutching each other and gripping like the world would pull him apart otherwise.

“Is that you?”

His cheeks tinted a darker color and he rubbed his neck gently, coughing as he gave a small, bashful nod. Had it been  _ that _  obvious? He supposed that it could be the fact that most of them when attempting to paint anything that inspired them, inserted themselves into their paintings. Still, the thought brought him no less a wave of flustered words that caught in his throat and refused to go down.

What more, he was nervous of anyone possibly capturing the fact that it was clear that even with his eyes indicating the emotion that he felt in the painting, the fact that he was beaming and the way the golden seeped into skin indicated just how he felt.

That was exactly how he felt. Every gentle touch or word from Lovino sent a sort of golden warmth into his being and it was electrifying, but oh so satisfying.

“Thank you, Antonio.”

His breath released and the world was calm.

As he walked back, a sense of pride overwhelmed him and he welcomed the unfamiliar, but wonderful feeling of satisfaction in his completed work.

He sat there in silence, not feeling awkward at not being able to critique other people for once. He only thought of the sweet music that danced in his ears and the hundreds of tears that threatened to spill to the floor from the overwhelming hit of senses.

The unfamiliarity replaced with the sweet embrace of fiery parts of his mind that he had long since forgotten. He had been far too numb. Yet now, these emotions poured out and exploded violently in a burst of connection. Antonio understood and it was wonderful. While he was aware that he would find himself numb again eventually and that this was most likely a temporary sensation, he ravished the feeling.

As soon as the class ended, Antonio ran out, cheering and jumping into the air feeling younger—feeling liberal and limitless. He didn’t care that he didn’t know where he was going (or at least he didn’t care quite  _ yet).  _ The most important thing to him right now was that he was free.

Antonio was absolutely, positively...

Free.

* * *

 

He walked up the steps with a dish in hand, a smile on his face. His white cane wobbled a bit in his arms as he struggled to balance the dish while managing to walk properly. His painting on top didn’t exactly make his struggles any simpler to manage.

Though, he didn’t mind as much as he normally did. In fact, his beatific demeanor remained so strong that the world around him could crash, burn, and crumble, but he would still remain blissful in the chaos. At least, he strived to reach for that and hoped that he could manage such a thing if any negativity were to stomp on his day.

Finally reaching the floor of his destination, Antonio let a breath of relief and made his way across the hall. His mouth moved without sound, only reflecting silent numbers.

“Wait for me!  _ You move like the ground crumbles under you, eugh. _ ”

Antonio chuckled softly and waited for Lovino, brushing some loose hair back from his face, “I’m sorry, ‘Vino! I’ll wait. I’m just really thrilled today. I actually feel like I did a good job on my project!”

Lovino gave a gruntled shake of the head and brushed his shoulder against Antonio’s as he made his way past him, “You always do good. Stop being so down on yourself,  _ goodness. _  You have talent, Toni. The next time I have to remind you, I’m shoving my boot up where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Kinky,” Antonio teased, causing him to get a whack from Lovino across the head.

Stifled laughs reached Antonio’s ears. It was all the proof that he needed.

Lovino took the dish from Antonio, poking his chest with one finger while a childish grin spread on his face, “I am a good Catholic boy! I made good choices! I floss daily! What did I do to end up with a stinky Spaniard with no fashion sense?”

Antonio shrugged slightly, his classic dopey grin still plastered on his face as he stood there, walking in only when Lovino opened the door to his apartment.

His lips curved into a wicked grin though, and once he put his white cane down, he made his way to the kitchen where he already knew that Lovino was, wrapping his arms around him, “I honestly don’t know. But I know that it  _ clearly _  wasn’t when you asked if I was mute when we first met.”

Lovino whacked Antonio’s shoulder and scoffed, almost convincing Antonio that he wasn’t amused. But the small laugh he let out told him otherwise, “Oh haha. I’m sorry that my bl—dumb ass didn’t know you would end up being a dumb man who doesn’t carry his white cane around even though he needs it!”

Antonio flinched slightly, his grip loosening slightly and heart pausing. It quickly melted away, but his arms still held him much looser than before, “I don’t like people staring is all.”

The room grew colder for a moment and Antonio could sense it. Pushing the subject away, he let go of Lovino and felt around the counter for the old radio that was always there. He needed a way to change the subject.

“Anto…”

“It’s just a preference. I know my way around well enough,” he quickly said, turning on the old radio, greeted by old Mexican songs thanks to Antonio who had found the station a week before and refused to change it because he was fascinated by Mexico and wanted to visit it one day.

Before Lovino could open his mouth to protest, Antonio pulled him into his arms once again and sang horribly, moving quickly with Lovino.

“Yo no pude suponerme lo que sucedio!”

_ “Oh my gosh, Anto…” _

“Era un juegito entre tu y yo!”

Lovino gently hit his fist against Antonio’s chest before moving along with him, shaking his head. He knew that he was only changing the subject, but somehow, he fell for Antonio’s random acts every single time.

“De inocentes amiguitos jugando al amor,” Antonio spun with Lovino, laughing gently, kissing his knuckles and moving to the playful and lively beat.

Humming softly, Lovino moved with him, giving up and just moving with him, a smile crawling to his lips when Antonio began to press kisses to his face, the entire thing tinting red while he was at it.

“You can’t just dance with me to avoid these conversations all of the time, you know,” Lovino stated through the peppered kiss and shy glances up at each other.

“You haven’t stopped me from doing so yet,” Antonio joked, knowing well what he was doing. Secretly, he had hoped that Lovino would not question his random bursts into dancing despite knowing that he was much smarter than that.

It wasn’t that he feared the topic—he feared the assumptions that came from the topic. Lovino had the habit of over-analyzing situation. He knew that much from the time he took to be Lovino’s friend and then the progression that led to where their relationship was now. He knew that he meant well, but every time that he interrogated him and asked him about things or made it seem like every slight mention of being blind was some sort of code for being upset,  _ that _  was what upset him.

Lovino must have given up because both were simply dancing to the song. The nice thing about dancing with Lovino was that it didn’t take too long before Antonio forgot what he had been thinking of before, only absorbed in the sweetness that was the moments of gentle caresses and fast steps to the side as they both tried not to fall over from clumsiness. Then there was Lovino who quickly got much too caught up in the sweetness that was Antonio's gentle touch.

The best part of it all though was that Antonio could pull Lovino close and lean in, cupping Lovino’s face, delicately brushing his lips against his—

“Would this be a bad time to say surprise…?”

Both immediately stopped dancing, Lovino screeching as he pulled away and Antonio standing there confused for a moment.

_ “Surprise, big brother!” _

“Feliciano, I’m only going to ask this once. How the  _ hell _  did you get into my apartment? Also, why are you here?”

Antonio’s brows furrowed in confusion.

A small whine filled the air, “I came to surprise you with Romeo! We both missed you. But uh, I see this is a bad time. And you still leave a spare key under the rug!”

“No shit,” Lovino fell silent and Antonio stood there for a bit, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do.

“Wait. Did you say you  _ and Romeo _ ?”

“...yes.”

“Feliciano!”

The bickering began and Antonio wrung his hands together, feeling his hands around as he searched for the couch to sit down until all of it had passed over. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on and he didn’t really want to know either. Or rather, he didn’t want to get involved and end up bruised because Lovino threw a punch or the two lunged at each other.

“Who are you?”

“Huh,” Antonio turned his head to the voice, unsure if he had really heard someone though the bickering of Lovino and this Feliciano.

“Who are you? Are you like, Lovino’s new  _ boyfriend, _ ” an amused tone cooed. It was childish; playful and airy. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it at first.

Clearing his throat, he nodded and put his hands on his lap, “Euh, yes. Who are you?”

The voice laughed brightly and Antonio heard a thump, he quickly sunk back into the couch, hoping that he was facing the correct direction, “I’m Romeo! Lovino’s little brother. Couldn’t you tell from the dashing looks and the random strand of untameable hair?”

Antonio froze for a moment, sinking further back into the couch. Small jumbled sounds escaping his lips before Lovino stepped in.

“Romeo, Feliciano!”

He hadn’t noticed that the bickering had ended. Though, he was rather grateful that it had. He shuffled a bit from where he sat, flinching a little when a hand went on his shoulder, his posture sinking slightly before the sweet and familiar aroma gently embraced his senses and relaxed him.

A loud sigh broke through the room before vanishing, leaving Antonio to hear nothing but his own breaths and heartbeat slamming in is ears, “Feli, Romeo, this is Anto-”

“Ooh! The cute guy you keep talking about over the phone?”

“Shut up!”

A small smile appeared on his face and he reached out, grabbing Lovino’s hand when he found it and giggling like the schoolboy that he was inside, “You talk about me, ‘Vino?”

The silence was all the answer he needed, the entire thing turning every part of him into small butterflies that flapped around and threatened to burst him. His smile sparkled and his soul sang out, not knowing what else to do.

“Mhm! All of time-oW!”

Lovino huffed and Antonio shook his head, standing up and pulling Lovino close, “Well, I’m glad you do.”

He was shoved away, a small laugh filling the air as he fell back on the couch. Though, it didn’t take long before he fell silent. As thrilled as he was to meet Lovino’s family, he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for it. A dozen what ifs ran through the cracks in his mind that sent doubt into the strongest parts of him.

“As I was saying before you little animals butt in is that this is Antonio.”

Feliciano chirped in joy, “The painter, si? I’d love to see your work and show you some of mine one day!”

Antonio was flattered, he really was, but he raised his brow gently as he nudged Lovino, almost as if to ask ‘does he know?’. Perhaps Lovino had told him and he simply forgot.

When he didn’t get an answer from him, Antonio nodded his head, “Yeah, I’d like that. But, fair warning, I may need someone to describe your work to me unless you don’t mind me touching your work, haha.”

“Hm? Why—”

Lovino quickly grabbed Antonio’s arm, nearly squeezing it off in the process, “He’s just really interested in art!”

_ Strike one _

Antonio raised his brow, a bit shocked. His stomach squeezed and took a small step back, “No, Feliciano was it? I’m sorry. Did Lovino not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

_ “Anto, don’t” _

_ Strike Two _

Oh.

He was ashamed of him, wasn’t he?

“I’m blind.”

The room filled with a piercing silence that rammed in Antonio’s ears and tugged at every part of him. Scratching at his back and laughing in his ear, it reminded him that no matter what, he was always chained and blindfolded. Nothing could ever change that. Not even the brightest light.

“Oh.”

Antonio pursed his lips. He knew that it still wasn’t very obvious, so he didn’t blame him. But Lovino hadn’t told him?

All of the confidence and freedom he had felt seemed to crash down and wouldn’t come back. He was so small. It was the largest disappointment that he had ever felt.

Pulled along, he followed limply, the world of bright orange and red fading grey. How could something so wonderful fade away so fast? He didn’t seem to care much anymore. He hit his shoulder on the small frame that led them to the kitchen.

He wasn’t sure if he was being rather hypocritical or not. After all, he was the one who constantly did everything that he could to hide the fact that he was blind. Yet, it felt so sour coming from Lovino. Wasn’t he supposed to help him move past that?

It was understandable if Feliciano had by chance forgotten the little bit, but for him to not be told at all? It made him feel sick to his stomach. He was unimportant and just some trinket to be appreciated and fawned over until the public came along.

It was family! How could he have not told family of all people? It didn’t require an in-depth explanation of some tragic backstory, all it required was for him to not seem like he was ashamed of him for being blind. Just a simple note—nothing much. Was it too much to ask for?

No, perhaps he was the one who was overreacting. It wasn’t anything big, right? It was nothing—so why on Earth did it feel like a huge big deal to him? Why did he feel as if the entire world was crumbling around him?

Pulling his arm back, his glossy eyes, seeing nothing, seemed to stare into the deepest and most vulnerable parts of Lovino.

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“You’re too hard on yourself about it.”

“I’m not,” his voice raised ever-so-slightly, “And even if I was! You should have at least said something, even if it wasn’t a lot!”

He wasn’t angry, he was embarrassed and he was pathetic. He already knew that he wasn’t exactly the best person to have around. He was aware of all of the things that he was guilty of and all of the people that he had hurt. He was so pathetically low.

Lovino growled in anger, “I didn’t need you overreacting!”

“And this?”

The accusation in his words stung Lovino sharply and besides the click of his tongue, there was no sound except for the cracking sound of old music playing on the radio. Antonio’s brows furrowed, anguish taking over him as he slumped from his straight and confident posture.

“I just didn’t want you scratching at your arm again,” his voice raised, “You think I don’t notice that you do it every time your anxious or frustrated? Even now, I know the scabs on your arm are new. I didn’t need them overreacting and making you do that and adding even more! I hate seeing you do that! It makes me feel awful! It’s like you don’t even know you’re doing it! But from the beginning, that’s the one thing that has pissed me off and made me worry the most. And-And I’m sorry, okay? I know I should have told them something and I know I made a stupid move back there, but I didn’t! I fucked up. I’m just so afraid of anything that might happen to you—there, I said it! I’m so afraid I’ll say the wrong thing sometimes. It doesn’t even have to be about you not being able to see. I’m afraid I’ll say something mean that you will take seriously or that I will just be exhausted mentally and you’ll think I hate you! I didn’t know how to tell them without one of them treating you like you can’t do anything on your own! I know you worry about me and whatever, but I don’t think that you realize that I worry too,” he cried out at him, forgetting the other people in the house, “I’m sorry. I know it was stupid, but sometimes I feel like I can’t ever make you happy enough and it hurts me.”

Lovino continued, but Antonio didn’t hear him. He was much too lost in his own thoughts and vexation. He was a mess, wasn’t he? The thought sent a rippling wave of nausea to his stomach. They had only started this relationship, were they already running into a major issue—one the first day?

“Maybe we jumped into this too fast?”

The room lost any and all warmth that it once contained.

“Don’t start, Anto. We had a good time, yes? We’ve gotten to know each other, yes? We got into this relationship and we aren’t letting it collapse right now because of one little thing.”

Why couldn’t he see that he was a mess? He shook his head, “Lovino, look at me. I’m a mess. I’m such a mess and I let my own anxieties fall on you. I can’t even see! What good am I to you? I can’t drive you places or take you to the movies or do anything that  _ normal _  couples do! I can’t even paint you smoothly! I have to texturize everything so I know that I am not messing up! Even when I think I’m over it and that I can live life without a fear, I get anxious and I’m like this again! I’m no good at anything and I’m small all over again.”

The tears collected in his eyes as the words came out, his body shaking and every part of him left open and vulnerable.

“I’m not a good man for you. I’m just a stupid painter with far too many doubts and pains.”

A gentle hand went on his cheek and a thumb wiped away the only tear that managed to slip.

“Don’t you dare cry,” his voice was commanding, but the tone was soft, “Anto, listen to me right now because I’m only going to say this once.”

He nodded limply.

“You are amazing and you do not need your sight to prove that. You’ve been painting for years and you lost your sight as a kid, why are you letting it make you miserable now? So what you can’t drive? I don’t even own a car! You don’t need sight to be amazing. This is what I mean. I hate seeing you get all mopey about this. Being blind isn’t the end of the world, but making it seem worse than it is will be the end of it.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, pushing Lovino’s hand away and covering his face, fingers tangled in his hair, “I don’t know! I was fine with it! I accepted it. I didn’t worry at all! I had so many plans and I felt like a person. My friends loved me, the school understood my situation and my struggles to adapt. It was all okay, but then it suddenly wasn’t anymore. I didn’t feel talented and I felt weak and-and I just didn’t know what I was doing anymore! I don’t know why I am like this, but I just want it to stop.”

No matter how much he pleaded or how many nights he spent crying and begging for a way to feel free like he had once felt, he was still the same man with all of the same fears. It was the one thing that tore at him the most.

His facade of confidence and joy fell and revealed the vulnerable person he was and slowly, he began to realize that his blindness had little to do with it. He wasn’t ashamed of being blind—he was scared. He was terrified.

Because what if his father had been right all along? What if he tried something and wasted all of these years on this one thing that he wasn’t good at? What if what if what if what if!

What if he wasted his life?

It wasn’t his blindness that chained him, it was his pride.

He felt a soft pair of lips on his cheek and he slowly brought his attention back to reality.

“Hey, it’s okay. Breathe.”

It was the gentlest he had ever heard Lovino.

“Breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here,” he rubbed Antonio’s arms gentle, pressing another sweet kiss on his cheek, “Don’t panic. I’m here.”

He pulled Lovino close and nearly broke down as he did. Yet, he remained without tears and simply inhaled the sweet flowery smell of the man he held, almost as if he was afraid that he would disappear if he didn't.

“I don’t know why I’ve become this way. I had a good life. I have no reason to feel like this.”

Lovino shushed him, his movements and actions so loving and calm. He was a different person in that moment. He didn’t snap or yell. He only stood there and gently wiped Antonio’s face, fingertip strokes soaking into his skin, “The world doesn’t care if you have had a good life of not. Sometimes, it just likes to fuck with us. It’s okay to be messed up, I am too. That’s why we’re in the kitchen right now,” he scoffed, shaking his head, allowing soft brown wisps of hair to graze Antonio’s skin, ”Maybe that’s why we met.”

A small smile met him and Antonio kissed Lovino’s forehead, hands cupping his face though he had memorized every detail about it. Somehow, he held the heaven’s in the palm of his hands. This beautiful angel holding everything he wanted and everything he needed was cupped in his hands.

He was wrong; he wasn’t free—not even in the slightest. What he was was healing.

Did Lovino have any idea how much he meant to him? Holding him in his arms, he let their dulcet breaths fill their ears and fill them with warmth.

“Forgive me.”

“Only if you forgive me too, idiot. This isn’t only on you, you know.”

The two had completely forgotten the two that waited for them in the living room. Too tangled up in the bittersweet moment, neither noticed two pairs of eyes peeking in and to their shock, seeing both embracing each other, no anger on either face, but rather a sense of serenity. It was a bit odd considering the angry yells that they had heard only moments before and neither was really sure of what to make of it.

What they were sure of was that they had never seen Lovino look so peaceful in years.

* * *

 

_ “The stars are beautiful tonight.” _

_ “Ya.” _

_ “You know what else is beautiful?” _

_ “I swear if you say something stupid, Alfred—” _

_ “Hawaiian pizza” _

_ “I hate you.” _

_ “I love you, too.” _

* * *

 

Feliciano and Romeo ended up liking Antonio quite a bit. They thought he was funny and very sweet. They adored his corny dad jokes and they loved that he got Lovino to laugh at them as well (though, he would never admit it). After eating, they sat and had some coffee as they chatted, both brothers getting to know Antonio better to erase the moment that had occurred before.

Feliciano’s eyes moved up and down for a moment, a brow raised and nodding. Lovino elbowed him to which the young painter batted his lashes sweetly before returning his intense gaze.

Romeo attempted several times to snag wine, though Lovino had hidden it, so he had found nothing.

Antonio, he relaxed. He spoke calmly with all of them, in an understanding and sweet voice. Despite it all, he was closed off—a trait unusual for Antonio to have.

“So Antonio, how much longer will you be in school?”

“Just this year,” He replied, tapping the small cup in his hands as he did, “I’ve nearly made it, haha”

Feliciano and Romeo’s eyes widened, “Wow! So you’re about twenty-six? Twenty-seven?”

“Twenty-six.”

“You’re ancient,” Romeo said in wonder and amusement, clearly teasing. Lovino whacked the small fifteen-year-old lightly.

Antonio simply laughed in return, “Yeah, I am ancient. Which means I’m smarter too.”

The comment earned light laughter from Romeo. He was curious of many things, Antonio could tell from the skips of breath in between his words.

“Do you see black?”

“Romeo!” Feliciano and Lovino looked horrified, Lovino more than anything.

Antonio chuckled softly and shook his head, “No, I don’t see in black.”

“But how would you know if you’ve never seen color?”

Lovino facepalmed.

Antonio sipped his coffee and put the cup down, “Well, I actually have seen color before. I lost my sight because of a car accident. I hit my head really hard and when I got to the hospital, there was nothing that really could be done. So I know what colors look like, my favorite is red. But, it’s weird to explain. I just see nothing. Not black, just nothing.”

Romeo tilted his head, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Mm, well imagine you stretched your arms and they went beyond the universe. What color is the space around them?”

“uh--”

“Exactly,” Antonio explained calmly, no anger, anxiety, or frustration in sight, “It’s just there. It just  _is_. There’s no black, orange, pink, or whatever, there just is it.  _It is nothing_.  Just the same, I see nothing. There just is,”

Romeo’s eyes widened, the explanation still not settling into his mind and seeming so impossible. It was frazzling and he took a moment to process it before he somewhat managed to get an idea of what Antonio meant.

“I think my brain exploded.”

“Didn’t know you had one to begin with,” Lovino replied, finishing his coffee and taking all of their dishes to the sink with an amused and wicked little grin.

Antonio shook his head at him, “Don’t worry. He’s mean to me too.”

“I heard that, Anto.”

Everyone had a good laugh and Antonio stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend, a playful smile on his face. The sweet laughter that he heard bubbling from the kitchen was all of the reassurance that he needed.

Feliciano stood up, “It’s been great to meet you, Antonio, and to see you again, Lovino, but Romeo and I have to go check into our hotel. We’ll be here for the week since someone here misses you.”

There was a loud scratch from Lovino’s general direction and the room fell silent for the strangest moment.

“Whaaaaaat?”

Antonio laughed a bit, covering his mouth. Though, the sweetness of their family left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. A sudden wave of nostalgia hit him but also filled him with a sense of sorrow.

“Alright, goodbye you nerds. See you later,” Lovino called to them, a sweeter tone taking over him. It was mild, but if anything, Antonio tended to notice such things. It was a nice contrast to his bitterness, though he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it

As soon as they were gone and a silence filled the air once again, he made his way to the kitchen, fingers mindlessly stroking the walls and feet recalling the familiar path of the apartment. Getting to the kitchen, he reached for Lovino, a bright smile decorating his face.

Beautiful, he was the sun. Even on the rainy days and horrid moments, he was there to wipe his tears and reassure him. Though their relationship took a chaotic turn on the first day, he felt secure around him. If he was Icarus, he would have gladly flown into his sweet and everlasting embrace.

Wrapping his arms around him, he reached to attempt to help out with the dishes from his position. His hand was smacked away by Lovino and it brought a smile to his face.

“What are you doing, dork,” Lovino’s soft and sarcastic laughter moved swiftly, wrapping around the both of them.

Antonio stood there, listening to the crackling sounds of the radio that still played crappy old songs, “I’m treasuring you.”

“Dumbass,” he chuckled, putting the last of the dishes on the rack.

Antonio held him dearer, memorizing every corner and curve of Lovino’s body. Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, he sighed.

Imperfect, but nevertheless amazing and stunning to Antonio in every way possible. Problematic, but he was too. It would have been hypocritical of him to deny him.

“You were calm around Romeo.”

“That’s because he is a teenager with questions. There was no pity, only honesty. I’m sure Feliciano is the same.”

Lovino sighed gently, a depressed tone in it, “Are you still upset?”

Antonio shook his head, “No, are you?”

“Only over the fact that you still haven’t given Shrek his face back.”

Lovino wasn’t cruel or selfish or even a monster. What he was—it was closed off. He kept a shield up and used his tongue as a sword to defend himself. He wasn’t sure why, but it wasn’t really any of his business, was it?

Antonio kept up a wall. He had been building it for years. Brick by brick he ignored the world and allowed himself to suffer. Stone by stone he erased his joy. Year after year he cemented it in security and confidence that he would never feel pain again. Yet, all it took was his breath and Lovino knocked every piece down.

Swaying from side to side, he felt a sense of freedom. Though he knew it was only a step towards truly ripping off his chains, he accepted it. It was a step forward after all. It was a step closer to freedom than he had been before.

“When are you letting me see your project? I want to see the finished product.”

“Not yet. You’ll know when.”

“Boo, you whore.”

Antonio laughed, spinning him around so that he could kiss him and rest his head on his forehead.

How much did he adore him?

He didn’t know. He just did.


	9. Verde Cromo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonio and Lovino come out about two things and their love strengthens, but weeds are beginning to grow in this Garden of Eden.

_**~Verde Cromo~** _

* * *

“ _The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.”_

_-_ _**Marcus Tullius Cicero** _

* * *

“ _Hey Lov....we have to talk. Answer me when you can. Have a good day salami breath, I looove you! <3”_

* * *

Sweet kisses peppered his face, each lighting a flame inside him and sprouting flowers of all kind that gladly soaked up the warmth of it all. Deep red carnations bloomed from his cheeks while primrose poked from his fingertips. With each clash of the lips, mallows sprung to life accompanied by red tulips. His lips were honeysuckle and he never wanted to let go.

Beautiful blooming love.

Like with wine, he was not sure he could live without him. Cupping his face, Antonio clung to him. Every kiss was sweet like honey and he wanted to consume it all.

However, with each kiss, the room grew warmer and touches lingered for fleeting seconds more, clinging to that passion that sprouted and flowered beautifully. What soon were light touches and peppered kisses became more desperate and longing with refusal to break away from the other.

Moving upward, Lovino wrapped his legs around Antonio’s waist, trailing long, desperate kisses down his neck, breath warm. Finding it safe, he hesitantly rolled his hips on his lap—a movement so delicate and small it could not possibly have been too fast.

Yet, Antonio still pulled away as if bitten by a viper.

Hands that once cupped the warm sun broke away like they had been burned. Lips that were swollen from kisses separate and suddenly cold. Eyes that once opened every few moments to melt lovingly on his face were blank and lifeless for a moment before shutting.

At first anger sparked up from Lovino, Antonio could detect it. The way the room suddenly fell so silent and the warmth and joy wore away. He did not know what to say to him, he hardly had an idea of how to make up for suddenly dropping him and moving to the far corner of the couch as if his lover would burn him if he tried to move any closer.

“Did I do something wrong,” he asked, almost accusatory and afraid to hear the answer.

“No,” he said, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

There was more silence and the room grew even more frigid, “Then why did you just—pull away?”

He sounded afraid, hurt, irritated, but genuinely curious and concerned.

Forget-me-nots sprouted from his lips and he moved back to where he was. How did he even explain something he himself did not understand? Antonio bit the inside of his cheek.

“Antonio, if I’m moving too fast, tell me, you idiot. I don’t want to force you into something uncomfortable.” His voice was a bit harsh, but carried all of the sincerity and love in the world.

The room warmed up a bit and Antonio wished more than anything to see just for a moment; just so that he could see this wonderful man who though bitter, cared about him more than he could ever expect anyone to.

Deep breath, he told himself, deep breath.

“You’re not moving too fast. It’s just—uh, I’m not so comfortable with sex,” he admitted, shyly, almost feeling as if that one thing lowered his worth even more, “And I panicked a bit when you started getting a bit more, lustful? If that’s the right word.”

There was silence and it was a bit terrifying to him. In his eyes, that boundary he had made him feel less loved and less capable of being loved. There really was no reason for it, but it grew inside of him and that thought of touching someone like that made him more nervous than words could comprehend. Yet, nothing was as terrifying as the suspense and lingering thought that perhaps Lovino wouldn’t like this part of him.

“That’s it?”

What?

He burst out laughing. It was not out of mockery, but simply out of amusement. Sweet, soft, silky laughter in his eyes despite being rough, scratchy, and breathless. Torture to the rest of the world, but lovely to him, he listened to that awful laugh and his heart warmed.

Cupping Antonio’s cheeks, he pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “Turtle dork, next time just tell me. It’s not a big deal if you don’t want that. I thought I did something bad, you fucktart.”

Daffodils fell from the sky. He was in love with an angel.

* * *

“Tell me Antonio, will you ever allow yourself to fall in love,” the question was smooth and calm; it was the same as it had been before. It took him back to the first time that the question had been asked. He had heard it a million times and he knew he would hear it a million times more. At least, that was if he did not begin to clarify the dances of his mind and the songs of his thoughts which lingered in the sweet air for million year moments.

“Oh my dear friend,” he laughed an airy laugh, “I don’t think I ever will. I don’t think I ever can.”

He could feel the atmosphere grow still and cold in confusion and uncertainty.

“But, nevertheless, it isn’t up to me to allow myself to fall in love. Even right now, it seems that I have found what I never meant to find. But you know what, Franny?”

“Hm,” he asked.

“I don’t mind so much,” he grinned wide and tossed the scarf around his neck, lifting the glass of wine up to his already stained lips.

Francis chuckled softly, humming in response. Words were not really needed at the moment. Even the obnoxious Gilbert had fallen silent in the moment.

How long had it been since he had seen them last? Somehow, he couldn’t quite recall it. It tore at him a bit to know that they would disappear once more as they had before and that he would only have the memories of things like now. He would soon only look back on drinking with his friends and laughing at the silly things in life that made him feel like he was still in highschool and that he was not in pain.

But then again, this time he was not alone. Somehow, that brightened him up more than anything else in the world could have. While his friends lived a good afternoon drive away from him, he would always have their voices when he called or the leftover things that they seemed to abandon in his home.

It called for a celebration. It called for a drink. Lifting up his hand, he requested more wine.

* * *

One of Antonio’s favorite things to do was to take walks; especially if it meant that Lovino was with him as well. He liked the air embracing him and the leaves, snow—whatever it may be—crunching beneath his feet as they walked. Then of course, there was the urban air and the busy sounds of the world in motion that he kept a bit of attention to through all of his counting and ensuring he did not walk into a pole or the center of a busy and dangerous road.

Lovino would hold his arm and lean on him in the slightest way that managed to splash up beautiful wisps of oceanside tranquility. Every once in a while, if he was confident, a pair of soft lips pressed to his ear or cheek. They poured out his love and laced his world in silk. Seconds, that was all it took for these simple little things to occur. And though they only lingered for a few fleeting moments, he embraced them close and never desired to let them go.

But there was something different this time.

He felt rather distant.

It wasn’t something that he could exactly pinpoint and talk about. He hadn’t the faintest guess at what made him realize that the walk was different and that all of the wonderful emotions weren’t painting his world.

Was it the fact that his grip was loose around his arm? Or was it the lack of physical contact and that Lovino had not leaned on him? No, perhaps it was the way he walked. The grace that he had recognized so often disappeared and was replaced by dragging feet and a feeling that dug inside his mind whispering cruel taunts and doubts.

“Are you alright, tesoro?”

“Yeah.”

He did not believe him. Perhaps there was the chance that he was simply being paranoid and that nothing was wrong at all. Yet, it seemed unrealistic the more that he thought about it. The more that he thought about the way that he seemed distant, the more that his heart broke a little at the thought of Lovino—precious Lovino—not trusting him enough or feeling comfortable enough to say what was on his mind that was leaving him behind a blurred wall.

He came to a stop, pulling a still walking Lovino back with him. Though, the irritated noises that came from him were setting him and Antonio could sense it.

“What,” his voice was bitter and held little-to-no patience; it stunned Antonio.

Did he dare attempt to ask again?

“What’s wrong?”

Lovino scoffed, pulling his arm away as well as pulling Antonio’s sense of security with it, “Nothing! Let it go!”

He attempted to continue walking but Antonio pulled him back, his brows furrowed and a small frown on his face, “Please ‘Vino, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I don’t have to tell you everything okay,” he spat at him, words hitting Antonio harder than any words before had ever hit him, “If I don’t want to talk about things I don’t have to! Just leave it alone! I just want to take a walk with you because—fuck—we never have a chance to. I just want to maybe get some ice cream and be with you, but the last thing I want to do right now is talk about whatever is on my mind, okay? I just,” he paused, sniffing lightly and sighing, “I just want to relax for a bit.”

Antonio nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to Lovino’s forehead, “Okay. We’ll just walk. You don’t have to say anything.”

Lovino was practically collapsing against Antonio, shaking with—well actually, he didn’t know. Anger? Fear? Anxiety? Something. Whatever it was, it left him trembling and clutching to Antonio as if he were turning to dust.

“Thank you,” he murmured when he finally had calmed himself enough to straighten up and take his arm again to continue their walk.

In reality, it baffled him briefly and he required a few minutes to compose himself. He was not so used to small bursts of fire. They were frightening. It brought chills to his spine and

Antonio loved their walks. He loved the secure feeling it gave him and the way it took away all of his anxieties. He loved their loving hold and the way that it was only he that could make Lovino smile the way he did without a single attempt to hide his laughter. He also loved Lovino telling him if something was wrong. He hated seeing him hold things in and wait for them to burst or carrying burdens on his own. He loved Lovino telling him when something was wrong so that he knew what he was keeping in.

However, he loved Lovino feeling comfortable and safe around him—even if he didn’t want to talk or just wasn’t ready to—even more. It was okay. When he was comfortable, he would tell. He could not force Lovino to tell him everything before he was ready to.

For now, he would make him happy.

“Guess what, ‘Vino,” he cooed in a light tone.

“Hm,” responded the still calming man holding his arm.

“My art is going to be in a gallery,” he said casually, as if it were a comment on the weather, “You should come see it.”

This got Lovino to perk up. Shoving Antonio’s shoulder, he gasped, “Really? That’s amazing! Show those bitches refusing to pay for their damn requests! When is it being displayed?”

“Friday. We could go check it out, look at the other art, and grab dinner together after. Is that okay?” Antonio stopped, pressing the crosswalk button.

“Sounds good. As long as we don’t get cheap pizza, I am absolutely fine. I look forward to it.” His tone was much more content than before and in all truth, it lifted Antonio’s hopes and drove away his anxiety.

Laughing lightly, he nodded, “Don’t worry. We won’t get cheap pizza. At least not then. Right now, we are getting cheap pizza.”

“Ugh, _Antooo_ ,” he whined, a humored tone in in, “This is abuse!”

He simply smiled a bit more. This—this was what he loved about their walks.

“I love you too.” Antonio pecked the top of his head.

* * *

_“hey nerd, I got your text, what’s up?”_

_“so you know how I have been having a hard time with chest pain and feeling dizzy and stuff?”_

_“Yeah….??”_

_“_ _I went to the doctor’s to check up and see what was wrong_ _and it turns out I got aortic stenosis.”_

“ _what’s that?”_

_“Um, it’s the narrowing of the heart valves. And I guess it’s pretty severe for me??? but yeah. I wanted to tell you in person but I dunno if I’d be able to not start crying in front of you ahaha.”_

_“is there anything that we can do?!”_

_“surgery. But uh,_ _my family doesn’t have that kind of money right now and nobody I know does either. So haha, I don’t really know what to do?”_

_“hey, don’t panic. Breathe. I promise you we’ll get you that money. Breathe. I’m on my way over and we’ll talk about this more when I get there, okay?”_

_“okay.”_

_“_ _k. remember I’m here to be your shoulder to cry on, okay? I won’t ask you to not cry because this is hard. Hell, I might end up crying too, but this won’t be forever, remember that. Now what kind of snacks do you want me to buy from the store? Oreos?”_

_“Oreos.”_

* * *

“You know, I’m not a fan of the corny ‘blindfolded surprise’ thing; especially not when I’m the one with working vision and I know you’re not paying attention to where you’re walking. This better be good, Anto,” Lovino said, a small smirk on his lips that was nearly undetectable.

Antonio chuckled and continued to lead him along, nervous that he would run into a pole himself, but overall excited to reveal his surprise to Lovino, “We’re almost there, querido.”

Lovino felt a gush of warmth and knew that were inside of the gallery. He rolled his eyes from beneath the blindfold and moved to keep walking. His and Antonio’s steps combined were rather clumsy and he was fairly impressed at the lack of tripping that took place.

He took another wobbly step to keep going but was pulled back, “Is this it?”

“Mhm. This is it,” Antonio smiled, embracing him and pressing soft, loving kisses on his neck and reaching to remove the blindfold, “Surprise, my love.”

Lovino opened his eyes and they went wide. Staring ahead, his mouth went into a small ‘o’ shape and he could see the people around them smiling and looking at him from the corner of his eye. Three paintings of Antonio’s were on display. Each one gorgeous coming from his hand of course. But what got Lovino to bite his lip and stare with teary eyes was the fact that each painting was a portrait of _him_. His face, grumpy, smiling, and neutral painted on the canvas in beautiful colors. Each one handled so detailed it was almost stunning since he could not recall any of these being made when he was around

Tears continued to collect and Lovino bit down on his lip, laughing lightly as he covered his his mouth staring up at the display. He was in an art gallery. Toni painted him. His heart bruised itself from how hard it was beating. Though, it wasn’t until he looked down at the plaque.

_Heaven’s Face_

Covering his face, he smiled sheepishly and turned, looking up at Antonio despite knowing that he could see the way that his face filled with a thousand blending emotions that painted one enamoured expression. Then, without the briefest hesitation, Lovino threw himself into Antonio’s arms, clinging to him tightly and bashfully. Tears poured down his face and mumbles warmed Antonio’s chest from his emotional attempts to express himself. His hands gripped onto the shirt that he now wrinkled and cried on.

“I assume that you like it then?” Antonio gently nuzzled his hair, his hand gently on the back of his neck.

Lovino nodded, unable to find his breath or words. Small muffled noises were the only indication that he was attempting to speak at all. It brought laughter bubbling from Antonio. It also caused a rather chagrined Lovino to punch Antonio—though he was completely enchanted.

“I love it, you big sap,” he finally said between shaky hiccups and breaths, “When did you have the time to do this?”

Antonio laughed more, kissing his forehead fondly, “Whenever I could.”

Lovino was still mumbling into his shirt, burning red and refusing to pull away from his shirt. The last thing that he wanted to see was the faces of the people around them seeing why he was reacting the way that he was and Antonio, laughing and pressing soft kisses to his head.

“I love you,” Antonio murmured before pressing one last kiss on his head.

Lovino finally pulled away, looking up at Antonio and letting a twitching smile grow on his face, “I love you too.”

That was how he stood with him, his heartbeat loud enough for just the two of them to hear. Antonio swayed gently with him, showing him the other art around the gallery, but Lovino buried his face in Antonio’s shoulder, unable to bear the knowing glances people gave him each time they glanced at Antonio’s painting.

But as the moments passed, so did Lovino’s embarrassment. Rather than cling to Antonio like gum to a shoe, he looked up proudly—meeting the eyes of the strangers in the room. He would give nothing but a simple nod when they looked towards him. He was an angel most high and his wings could not be clipped—no matter how many times he was shot a nasty look.

Soon, he was standing tall next to Antonio, not allowing anyone to steal his high. But as proud as he was, it wasn’t for being the one painted. No, it was for being able to look up at Antonio and towards his paintings knowing that the shift from dark blues, greys, and purples to gold, lively greens, and hues of the sunrise began as he stepped into the picture.

He wished that breath that smelled just a bit too sweet would never smell that way again.

Shy glances towards Antonio’s set snuck past him and he would smile before gazing up at the man he remained close to. He had talent and he knew with every last part of his heart that Antonio would become known one day.

As the silence from his admiration pierced his mind, so did the guilt of his enraged silence from before. It pierced his veil of lies and his inner facade he had placed for himself came crumbling down having been no stronger than the walls of Jericho.

Sighing, he wondered how much longer he could continue to walk on nails and lie to himself and Antonio.

He wondered how Alfred was doing.

“Are you tired, querido?”

Lovino glanced up at Antonio once more. He was the very sun for his Earth. He brought him light and life, never burning him in the process. He was his meaning and his breath. This wonderful sun—had he blinded himself in more way than one?

“A bit. Is it alright if we have dinner at your house,” he asked softly, completely worn out from his crying.

Gently wiping his tears, Antonio nodded, “Of course we can, come on.”

His face was buried in his shoulder, a sliver of a smile caressing his face.

Walking outside, Antonio shivered a bit as he opened the umbrella for them so that they could walk. Lovino gazed up at him and his eyes could have flooded with tears. No matter how times he caught his face or his smile, he still wobbled to his knees. No matter how many times he reminded himself he didn’t really fear anything or have anything he needed to be protected from, Antonio’s arms were the where he felt the most secure.

After so much running and attempting to find sense in his world of monachopsis and confusion, finding someone so bright and full of life turned his entire world on it’s side and filled his dreams with primroses.

Though the night was a bit cold, he did not shiver. Antonio was his warmth. He glanced at the road ahead of them, still leading the walk. The night was absolutely gorgeous and it took him a moment before he realized he couldn’t quite comment on how beautiful everything looked. The struggle was one that was not great, but little slip-ups still managed to move past him. However, he was content in knowing that he was improving over time.

“What are you thinking about, ‘Vino?” Antonio’s voice was soft and feathery.

Tilting his head, he stopped their walk so that they could wait for the crosswalk. Humming softly, he fixed his grip on Antonio’s arm, clinging to him like a frightened child, “Stuff,” he said. His hazel eyes darted to the sign and he began walking again, “A lot of stuff.”

There was only a quiet “mm” from Antonio as a sign that he had heard him. It sent pins to his skin and suddenly, all the anxiety he had piled up for the day was beginning to get to him. Before he knew it, he was collapsed against his boyfriend once again, clinging to him in desperation as his tears poured down. The umbrella was stabbing him slightly, but he did not care. He wanted it to stab him. Lovino desired for nothing more than for that umbrella to pierce his skin and take away the pain he felt everywhere else.

He knew that he was ruining Antonio’s shirt, but he refused to let go. There was the imp of a voice in his mind that taunted him and brought him more fear than he could absorb or handle.

He could practically hear the shattering of Antonio’s heart as he listened to his miserable sobs.

“Is there a cafe or a gas station here? I’ll get us an Uber. I don’t think you’re fit for walking,” his voice was still, holding no emotion, not even the question. It wasn’t a question with an alternative option.

Nodding limply, he turned, ignoring the cars and the rain, not caring that he was getting soaked, “T-There’s a McDonald's r-right ar-round the corner.” His sniffs and chokes mixed with his words and nothing tore at Antonio more than that moment of hearing and being able to see the brightest angel in world crumbling to pieces before him.

Everything was silent as they sat. The only words either had said had been Lovino ordering fries. Besides that, there was silence. Miserable, broken, tragic silence. The noise and the sounds of other eating surrounded them; their corner was silent. Even when their ride arrived, they were silent. Antonio’s arms around Lovino, pushing his soaked hair back as they sat there.

The entire time, guilt ate away at Lovino. How could he ruin such a wonderful night with his old flames and his old pains? He didn’t dare meet his face in fear of Antonio catching something—anything that gave away his crumbling world. Though, he knew deep inside the crevices of his soul that he already knew.

He already knew.

Then, out of nowhere, sound broke through the threatening silence and Lovino’s tears stopped falling. His pounding ears silenced in that moment and welcomed the sweet, whispery murmurs from the man who held him.

_Put your head on my shoulder_

_Hold me in your arms, baby_

_Squeeze me oh-so tight_

_Show me_

_That you love me too_

A smile broke onto his face and he met Antonio’s face. His eyes scanned over every sharp angle and every soft curve. How had he found such a treasure?

“Antonio,” he said, “There’s something I want to tell you once we get to your house.”

The prickly feeling of guilt and fear mixed, producing an emotion that was tormenting in ways that burned him.

“Okay,” he replied, calmly; it took Lovino’s fear away.

For once, he was able to relax, no fears in the world and no concerns for all the weight crushing him that he was finally—after so long—letting go of.

* * *

“ _Promise me that if I don’t get past October, that you won’t keep yourself from loving again.”_

“ _I promise I’ll try”_

* * *

_Lovino hated autumn. He hated it. Everything from the dry, cold, weather to the damp leaves that were absolutely no fun to walk in. The mud was far too thick and the air was anything but nice. No matter how many scarves he wore, the cold still left his skin burning and begging to be scratched. The season screamed disappointment. It had for the past three years. Yet, of all the things he abhorred about autumn, it was the fact that he still hadn’t gotten over everything that hit him the hardest._

_Despite autumn having done nothing to him before, he loathed it these days. Though that October night had been like any other, he still wished he could fall into a coma until winter rolled around. Perhaps he would fall into one forever._

_Perhaps he could fall into death without realization and when he looked up and out his window, Alfred would be standing there with wide, welcome arms. He would run up to him and embrace him with no intention of letting go._

_Yes, that sounded like a good plan. It sounded absolutely perfect._

_He pushed people aside, never looking up once. Angry looks were shot in his direction, but he did not care very much. His eyes remained on the ground, his heart crumbing behind him as it had been doing for three years._

_He glanced up, knowing he had to sometime. Green. There was a quick blur of green before he tumbled to the ground_

* * *

“What did you want to talk about,” Antonio asked as he hung his coat, making his way to the kitchen. His heart beat fast. Though he was sure that they had settled any issues, he couldn’t help but grow concerned with the way Lovino seemed so upset and then wanting to talk to him in private.

Perhaps he was overthinking it and reading the signs wrong, but yet, he could not help it. It tore at him to think so; especially when he found himself certain that Lovino was the one he desired and the one he wanted to hold at night.

“Well,” he began, “This is something we should sit down for.”

Oh.

So he was breaking up with him.

Suddenly, he could not breathe. Why all of a sudden did he want to break up? Antonio knew he was far from perfect, but he thought Lovino cared about him the way he did and was willing to work together and take baby steps. Had that not been true? His entire body was weak and he felt unable to do anything but swallow over and over despite having a dry mouth after about the third time.

Seated, his clammy hands found his lap. He could feel all of the tears beginning to collect leaving him nothing but a human stick of lighted dynamite.

“Anto-”

“Was it something I did?”

“W-What?” Lovino’s hands squeezed his in surprise.

Antonio sniffed, already beginning to cry miserably, “You. Breaking up with me. Was it something I did?”

The man was trembling and he didn’t want to hear the reasoning for why he was being dumped. All he could think about was the fact that he had managed to drive another person away; that he drove the most precious person to him away. Somehow, he had done it again.

Hiccups moved past him and he struggled not to collapse as it was, his entire heart threatening to shatter.

“Breaking up with-Oh no! Antonio! No! Caro! Oh, my gosh,” Lovino burst into light laughter, “Caro, I’m not breaking up with you. Crap. I’m so sorry. I made you worry this much? I’m so sorry, Antonio.”

“Y-You’re not breaking up with me?” he was a hiccuping mess, tears already streaming down his face faster than he could control.

Lovino shook his head, “Hell no. I was just going to give an explanation for today because I broke down so much. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Anto.”

His breath released and he embraced his boyfriend tightly, his entire body shaking still and his tears still pouring, “Don’t scare me like that! I t-thought you d-didn’t want to be with me anym-more!”

“Antonio, you painted me for an art gallery. I’d be insane to break up with you,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, “Stop crying, mio amore. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

It took him a few moments to process what had been said. Oh, he wasn’t being left behind. That brought him much relief. However, he was now a bit more concerned about what Lovino had to tell him. Every part of him attempted to rationalize and help him calm down from the many _many_ irrational assumptions of what he had to say. Was he leaving to live somewhere else? Had he found a career that would mean that there would be less time they would have around one another?

“So, you know how I’ve been a bit, well, sensitive lately?”

Suddenly, all of his attention was on Lovino, not because he was worried about himself or that he would have his heartbroken, but that he was seeing these walls he never believed would come down crumble to nothing but dust.

Lovino, his beautiful Lovino. The way he shook like a pup in a thunderstorm, the way that he clung to him suddenly, collapsing and not sure of what he was doing, those gasps of breath as he sought to control himself in the only way that he could—what on earth had happened to his wonderful moonlight?

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this,” he choked out between all of the sobs and disparity.

Antonio gently rubbed his back, “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain-”

“No, I mean I can’t hold this in anymore,” he sniffed. Moving, he sat up straight, still holding his hands tightly, nails digging into his palms, “Antonio, do you remember that time I broke down when you were painting my face?”

“And you told me it reminded you of your ex, yes, why?”

Oh, the way anxiety gnawed at his mind in vile and selfish attempts to turn his mood sour and break his heart in two. What had happened to his wonderful Lovino? What damage had occurred that tore his heart and entire being apart, piece by piece?

Lovino wiped his tears again, “I loved him very much Antonio, I want you to know that. He helped me out during really bad times with my parents.”

Though his heart ached at the thought of Lovino’s lips pressed against another pair that weren’t his, he listened. Though the thought of someone else, someone who could actually be the man he needed, caressing his skin and making him laugh made his heart burn in pain, he did not interrupt him.

And soon it became worth it. As his words of sorrow poured out like a great flood, Antonio felt like Noah, keeping steady through it all. With each passing minute, Lovino poured another piece of himself out to Antonio. His parents and their drinking problem that led to abuse, Alfred coming along and lighting up his world, the way that he felt a love he didn’t understand, finding about his heart, and the call he got the day of the surgery to inform him that Alfred hadn’t made it. All of it. There was no holding back. Every last part of his pride washed away, crumbled, shattered. He was vulnerable in Antonio’s arms, talking to him about hating autumn from that day thereafter. He was sobbing and crying out in agony as he confessed his deepest torments to him.

Antonio did not need sight to let him know that his pain was crushing him and leaving him curled into a ball of pain as he let the moment wash away the dirt that had infected his wounds.

The way his words echoed in Antonio’s mind tormented him. Such words, such tones, such misery should never have been heard again from the moon that lit up his darkest nights and filled the blackness with shining beauty. Oh, he wished he could kiss that pain away and never let it touch the heart of his beloved. He wished he could fill him with love like wine filled a glass and never see him unhappy again.

“I thought it w-was going to be okay, you know,” he sniffed, buried in Antonio’s shirt as he clung to him desperately, “He even called the night before excited. He p-promised that we were going to g-go on a nice date and he was going to spoil me like crazy a-after,” he chuckled softly, “B-but t-then I got that call—I wasn’t even out of school yet—and his dad was telling me with shaky gasps that he had flatlined during the surgery and-and that t-that was it. It was two y-years ago t-today.”

His heart did end up breaking that day, but it did not break because Lovino admitted to still feeling the pain of his late boyfriend. No, his heart broke because after wondering what had caused him so much grievance and what had been crushing his sanity for so long, he knew. He finally knew and truth be told, hearing his pain brought him more pain than anything on Earth ever could have.

Parents who loved liquor more than him? A boyfriend who showed him the light only to have him plucked away with the harsh reminder of the delicateness of life. No, he did not deserve to carry such weights on his back. If he could, he would have taken them onto his own. He would worn them on his back so that Lovino would never have to suffer with the way they pierced through his skin with the thorns that grew from them or watch his back cripple under the weight. He already carried a lot on his own back and he had long since bled out from it all; what difference would a couple more weights make?

“And it makes me feel like such an asshole, b-because if I’m d-dating you, then should I-I b-be happy? Why am I still c-crying o-over this? I h-have you,” he wailed, collapsing into Antonio’s arms, nothing more than a fragile form of a person. All of his walls had washed away and the image of strength and confidence that Antonio had been so used to being around was left a shivering pup in his arms.

Yes, his heart hurt. That much he could deny. The knowledge that there was still the slight longing for his old boyfriend stung and tormented him. His pride and fears said to break up with Lovino and forget that he had ever been involved with him. Yet, his heart told him otherwise and he knew the truth.

Cupping his face, he kissed his forehead and sighed, “You have every right to feel pain. You have every right to cry. You have every reason in the world to grieve right here in my arms. I don’t care that you cry for someone else; you’re hurt. It’s okay to cry, Lovino, and it’s okay to grieve. You lost someone and just because I’m in your life now doesn’t mean you still can’t feel that pain. Who am I to tell you when and when you cannot feel pain?”

Lovino sniffed, a miserable moan erupting from him as he shook his head, “B-but I’m crying over s-someone I used to date.”

“How does that invalidate your feelings,” he asked, “My love, you can cry for as long as you need to and weep into my arms for all of eternity if that’s what you need. Am I supposed to be angry that you fell in love before? That’s unrealistic. ‘Vino, I am not here to replace him, I’m here to love you right now and be the shoulder to lean on when something is wrong. It doesn’t make a difference to me that he was your boyfriend; you are allowed to grieve. So grieve, cry, and let all of that pain out. I’m here to listen to you when you need it. I know life has not been good to you and that you’ve held this in for a long time in fear of what happens if you forget him. But Lovino, you’ve been holding yourself on the edge of that cliff for too long, afraid to take the next step and jump. But I’m here now, aren’t I? So it’s okay to jump. It’s okay to let go, and it’s okay to cry when you do because the fall is scary.”

Lovino kept clinging to Antonio, terrible sobs shaking his entire body as Antonio held him close, whispering soft words of adoration in his ear to relax him. Oh, his beautiful love. He wished he had known before to help him take that leap.

“It’s okay to be scared to jump. It’s okay to be scared of letting go. However, I promise you that once you do, I’ll be right here to catch you with open arms and all of the love in the world. Don’t let grief torment you anymore,” he said, fingers combing through his hair, grazing along his cheek, cupping his face—simply doing all that he could to slow his breaths and allow him relief.

Though he said nothing and continued to cling to him, the fact that his breaths grew softer and his grip gentle, Antonio knew. He sat there with him, gentle kisses pressed to his hands and lips as he slowly fell asleep in Antonio’s arms—absolutely exhausted from crying—while Antonio held him close with no intention of letting go.

His gentle hiccups and small shaky gasps were all that Antonio listened to that night. Though his mind still felt envy over this Alfred, he thought about where he was now. It didn’t matter what happened in Lovino’s past or who he had loved because he loved him now. He was the one who pressed soft kisses to his head.

He was the one who made all of his worries and all of his pains wash away, even if only temporary. This wonderful man walked into his life and treated him like an actual person. Though he wished he could see his face at least once, the way the warm of his body lit his mind with the colors of autumn fire made life all the more blissful.

How much grief did he hold? Not only from the death of his partner, but from the treatment of his parents? How many nights had this man pushed himself and his brothers into a corner without so much as a second thought?

Leaning close to him, he kissed him once more, “I promise I will never hurt you the way they did.”

Red dahlias grew from the floor.


End file.
